


Before There Was a Herald

by enigmalea



Series: Of Many Hearts [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: All aboard the Feels train, And I don't normally get all emotional, Banassan's A++ Parenting, Biting, Cheating, Cunnilingus, Dalish Courtship, Dalish Elven Culture and Customs, Dalish Elves, Dalish Sexuality, Developing Relationship, Emotional Sex, F/M, Fade Shenanigans, Handfasting, I Made Myself Cry, Kissing, Light Angst, Magic, Mild Femdom, Neck Kissing, Nipple Licking, Nudity, Oral Sex, POV Multiple, POV Third Person, Pining, Public Nudity, Rough Sex, Sex, Sex Magic, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Solas Being Solas, Training, UST, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vaginal Sex, Weddings, mild frottage, mild sub!Solas, so there's that, yeah... light angst seems right... and it's all in the epilogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-10-07 09:47:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 44,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17363696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmalea/pseuds/enigmalea
Summary: Aravas Lavellan stumbles upon a strange (and naked) mage while gathering herbs for her Clan. The mage is none other than Fen'Harel, recently awoken from uthenera, and far weaker than he ever expected to be.The mage who had appeared from the woods was an enigma. He didn't answer her questions directly, but he didn't avoid them either. There was something about him. Aravas was inexplicably drawn to him; she trusted him. It didn't make sense. Every bit of her upbringing told her to be wary of strangers. True, her Clan was less strict about that, more open to dealing with strangers and shemlen, more open to peace… but this was a bit far, even for them. If he were a slave, that meant they'd get the attention of slave hunters; if he was from a Circle, from Templars. Neither would be good. Though he hadn't answered who he was, she didn't believe anyone - anyone at all - would be looking for him.⚠️⭐️ This work is a must-read, main storyline work of the Of Many Hearts Series.





	1. The Mysterious Mage

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is my first Dragon Age fanfiction, and it's been a long time coming. This first story is set about a year before the start of Inquisition, and my plans are to expand on the game's storylines quite a bit with "missing scenes", various headcanons, and various explorations of relationships, but all centering around this version of the Inquisitor. Although it isn't obvious in this part (due to a lack of culture exposure), Aravas is polyromantic and eventually will fall in love with just about everyone (poor Inquisitor really has it tough).
> 
> I'm also toying with the idea (and have been for a while) of having my Inquisitor be genderfluid or agender. I feel like it won't impact the story much because she will always think of herself in feminine pronouns. As someone who considers themselves genderfluid, but who sticks with their assigned gender's pronouns, I know this is perfectly valid, but I'd like some other opinions before I run with it. Mostly, I feel like this could lead to her having some interesting conversations with Krem once she even realizes that gender identity is a _thing_ , but I don't think it will contribute a _ton_ to her overall character development. This also won't come into play more until other installments in the series and likely wouldn't impact this particular story at all. I just want to gather input to mull over as I plan out some more storyline ideas. Please comment with any thoughts or opinions you have!
> 
> I wasn't really aware of how _little_ I knew about Elvhen and Dalish culture until I started writing this, so feel free to comment with corrections/suggestions, and I'll do my best to stay true.
> 
> Thanks to [FenxShiral's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FenxShiral/pseuds/FenxShiral) [Project Elvhen: Book of Names](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4401050?view_full_work=true) for help with naming my original Elvhen characters!
> 
>  **06/14/19:** I've created a discord server for Dragon Age fanfic writers, betas, and readers to all come together to talk about fics they're reading/writing or want to read/write. Feel free to join me at [The Hanged Man](https://discordapp.com/invite/8FsBN4p)! (Please note the server is NSFW and 18+ only.)

The grass was soft and warm beneath her feet; the sky was clear and the sun broke through the forest canopy, dappling the trees and underbrush with a mosaic of light. Around her, the birds and insects sang their joy at the coming of spring. It was a glorious day.

Aravas Lavellan moved lightly and quickly on her feet, careful not to announce to anything she was coming. Her staff was strapped tightly across her back but was easily accessible if it was needed. Out here, it was unlikely it would be needed, but one could never be too careful. She threaded her way through the forest with the ease of someone who knew exactly where she was going. Although Clan Lavellan didn't ever stay too long in one area and she was used to making her home wherever she was at the moment, they did have specific woods they traveled in. She'd spent her childhood learning to hunt and then learning to forage for herbs in these woods. She could navigate them blindfolded if needed.

It didn't take her long to reach the bank of the stream which would be serving as her Clan's source of water for this stay. They had not camped on its banks as the snow had not completely thawed in the mountains and the spring rains had not yet hit. The river was not yet at its peak and it could quickly get out of hand. There was no telling if it would stay confined to its banks or if it would spill over. Camping further away was better. 

She knelt to pick elfroot and blood lotus and spindleweed and slide it into her satchel, focusing on the elfroot the most. It had been a rough winter, and several of the younger and older members of her clan were still fighting illness. She was gentle with the plants, making sure to only take the leaves or stems as needed and to leave the root intact, using the small knife she carried to make clean cuts. Once the herbs were prepared, they would spend days brewing potions, and whatever wasn't needed would be traded to the shemlen who would take them into the cities and probably make double the profit.

Aravas didn't mind the work. She was just as content here in the forest, as she was studying with Deshanna learning magic and history and politics. Thankfully, her mind had soaked up knowledge as easily as her body had soaked up hunting technique. She wondered, not for the first time, what her life might have been like if she hadn't accidentally set that arrow on fire one day while practicing archery. Her magical abilities had manifested late. Well, no, her magical abilities had confined themselves to her dreams in her childhood. Without her knowledge, Aravas had been spending hours deep in the Beyond while dreaming. That wasn't unusual. What was unusual was the fact she'd spoken with spirits, relived memories that were not her own, gleaned knowledge from the Beyond, and remembered it all… without ever knowing it. She simply thought that it was _normal_ ; that _all_ her People dreamt that way. 

If she hadn't set the arrow on fire, she'd likely have been married already, spending her days hunting with Ghimyean and her nights in passion with him as well, rather than him barely meeting her eyes when she spoke to him. She wasn't sure if he did that because he was frightened or did it because he felt guilty. Maybe he thought if he hadn't made her angry, she'd have never become a mage. He must have known that wasn't the case, though. She was already a mage. His teasing had simply been a catalyst for her power, the spark she'd needed to manifest it into the physical world.

_Ghimyean had beaten her. For the first time. Ever. They had been rivals and best friends practically since birth, but Aravas was always slightly ahead of him, her accuracy with a bow, her speed through the forest, her ability to spot prey always just slightly above his own. But he practiced and he worked hard, and so she'd always had to push herself to keep that edge. They were so young, barely 12, but they were able to outpace some of the more experienced hunters. They were always told it wasn't really a competition even when they held contests_ _… but to them, it was._

_It was winter, too many animals sleeping to send a full hunting party, and the younger hunters had been held back for drills. Next year, they would begin training with daggers, and eventually, a sword if they wished to pursue it, but for now_ _… they had to master archery. The day before, her father had announced the contest - an exercise in both accuracy and precision. The archer with the tightest grouping closest to the bulls-eye would be declared the winner. At the last moment, as Aravas released the string of her bow on her final shot, the wind had shifted, causing her arrow to drop ever so slightly - enough that Ghimyean was able to eke ahead of her._

_She was fine with it, really. Except that he wouldn't let it go. He'd spent the rest of the day and all of today teasing her, boasting about how he'd beaten her. Then there was today's contest. They were neck-in-neck, their first three arrows landing in almost precisely the same pattern. It all hinged on the fourth, again. The other archers in their age range were taking their turns as Ghimyean slid next to her and leaned against the ancient stone wall near their camp, grinning broadly. Her heart skipped a beat that he was so close to her and that his green eyes were sparkling so bright._

_She'd just recently become aware that she was nursing a crush, that Ghimyean made her think of things - grown-up things - like kissing and dating and_ _… more. It was an unsettling revelation, but she thought he might feel the same. Maybe he'd always felt the same. Maybe that's why he'd worked so hard to get her attention._

_"I hope you're ready to lose again today, Aravas," Ghimyean stated simply._

_Her jaw clenched in response. "We'll see," she replied._

_"Oh come on, Ara, don't be a sore loser. It's about time someone knocked you down a peg or two. You can't always be perfect," he leaned close and whispered darkly, and she closed her eyes tight as her heart began to pound in her chest. Was he torturing her on purpose? Did he suspect?_

_"Can't I?" she countered as she met his gaze. Her voice sounded steadier than she felt, and she was glad for that. "And don't call me that. My name is Aravas, not Ara."_

_He rolled his eyes at her and looked away. "Just because your Daddy is the leader of the hunters doesn't mean you'll get to be, you know," he taunted. "You can't boss me around_ _… yet… and you won't get to if I have anything to say about it."_

 _Her hand gripped her bow tightly, almost too tightly. The wood dug into her hand. He was just teasing her, nothing he hadn't done before, but it was getting to her for some reason, in ways it never had before. Was it because she_ _… she…_ liked _him now? Or was it because he'd actually beaten her for once? No_ _… it wasn't that. Definitely the first. She forced herself to relax, channeling on her training to steady her breath and clear her mind. "When I become leader, Ghimyean, I'll put you on squirrel duty, helping the young ones. No bucks or rams for you, no glory, only snacks."_

 _He frowned, darkness crossing over his face, and she worried for a minute that he hadn't recognized she'd been teasing. Was he really upset? Maybe. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. He rounded on her, trapping her between himself and the wall, and leaned in close to heatedly whisper, "and that's why you'll never be leader, Aravas. Your stupid pride. It will be your downfall. The Dread Wolf is coming for you_ _… he's coming to gobble up you and your foolish pride. He's going to devour you… like you devoured your mother."_

_The rage had flashed through her faster than she'd acknowledged it, and she shoved Ghimyean roughly away from her, storming past him. It was her turn to shoot anyway, and she'd just barely kept herself from swinging on him. He could attack her and her pride. He could threaten her with the Dread Wolf - who was afraid of a story? - but to bring up her mother was unnecessarily cruel. She was still shaking with barely concealed anger as she took her place in front of her target._

_Her grouping up until now was almost too close. Her fourth arrow would have to be aimed off-center to ensure her arrow actually drove him and didn't skim off another arrow. Unless_ _… unless she used a full draw. The force of it could split another of her arrows in half if it needed to. But that was an advanced technique, one they'd never officially been taught, and one that - although she'd attempted it on her own and succeeded - she hadn't mastered._

_She tried to shove her rage down and still her mind as she drew her bow back, but it still pulsed within her. Her breathing was steady, but her anger at Ghimyean was still seething beneath the surface. As she knelt slowly to the ground, she heard the various chatter around the range go silent and felt all eyes turn to her. Let them look. Let them all look as she destroyed Ghimyean. The bow was shaking in her hand slightly as she pushed it forward, the tautness hurt her arms, her back. She took a deep breath, and her arm steadied. She was doing this. She could do this. She could burn him into dust with her rage. She would make him see she was nothing to be trifled with._

_As she released the bow's string, she also released her anger. The string snapped forward with more force than she expected, the wood of her bow nearly cracking with the released tension. The arrow erupted in flame mid-flight and sunk into the target with a loud_ thud _before it too erupted into flame. She didn't understand what she was seeing. They had exploding arrows, of course, but those were different. They weren't flaming. They exploded on impact, and she hadn't grabbed any of those from the stores. It had been normal_ _… it had been…_

_"Aravas," her father called as he crossed to her and grabbed her by the arms. The range was silent. "What did you do?" She stood slowly, lost for words as she looked from Ghimyean to her father and back again. Ghimyean looked_ _… terrified; her father looked concerned._

_"I_ _… I… just a full draw,_ _hahren_ _," she said softly. Her eyes moved from her father to the target which was crumbling to ash._

_"Was that a normal arrow?" he asked. She couldn't tell if he was angry. She couldn't tell what he was feeling. She was too shocked to process much of anything. She looked back up at him, her silver-gray eyes meeting ones of the same color. She tried to answer but couldn't find the words; her mouth opened and shut. "Aravas, answer me."_

_"I_ _… yes… it… I didn't…"_

_"Did you set that arrow on fire?"_

_"I_ _… I don't…"_

_"Training is canceled for the rest of the day," he called to everyone. No one moved. It was as if everyone were holding their breaths, waiting for something to happen. The tension and apprehension were thick in the air. It made it hard to breathe. She struggled not to panic._

_"But_ _… why? I didn't… I don't know how…"_

_"We have to see the Keeper, da'lan. I think you just used magic."_

She jolted to from the trip into her memories with an awareness that something was watching her. She hadn't been so lost in her memories she'd stopped gathering herbs, but she had stopped paying attention. Most of the predators should still be hibernating… except for wolves. She looked up and her eyes met the dark brown of a buck's. He was huge, at least 15 points on his antlers. They would need to take him out this season before he killed too many of the young bucks defending his territory. His meat would feed the Clan for weeks.

Out of habit, she reached for her bow and silently cursed her staff. She couldn't use magic to kill it, not if she wanted others to eat the meat. They wouldn't dare; they'd be terrified demons could find them. Ghimyean. She'd tell Ghimyean. If anyone could track this beast and kill it, it was him. The buck's ears twitched as if hearing something far away and without warning, he bolted. Aravas tensed, straining her own hearing. It was hard to hear, but something was stumbling closer, clumsily. As it neared, it became louder. It was… rather large, at least the size of a person, but staggering erratically.

Aravas withdrew her staff quickly, still crouched low to the ground. She didn't want a fight, but if she had to…

She barely stopped herself from gasping as she felt the _power_ first. It was a mage! Weak, but a mage. She could feel the way the Veil shifted around him, clinging, and then he emerged from the trees, stumbling to his knees at the edge of the water and drinking deeply. She flushed darkly at the sight. He was skinny, lithe, and strong, and… naked… from head to toe.

He drank for what seemed like forever, before he collapsed on the bank, breathing deeply.

He was too weak to hurt her, she was certain of it. Without hesitation, she stood and moved to him. "Hello," she said softly, in common. He had no vallaslin, which meant he must be a city elf. Possibly an escaped Circle mage. Or maybe, just maybe, he'd been abandoned by a clan with too many mages before he was old enough to take a vallaslin; that seemed unlikely. It also seemed unlikely he was a slave, but it was possible.

The man jumped slightly and sat up, struggling to scamper to his feet. She thought he might run, and then she felt the shifting of magic around him, saw the flicker of a weak barrier. "Wait. I won't hurt you. My name is Aravas. I'm the First to Clan Lavellan. We're camped not too far from here. What's your name?"

He cocked his head to the side as if he were trying to understand exactly what she was saying to him. He seemed confused, disoriented. He licked his lips, and replied hoarsely, "I am called… Solas."

* * *

 

Solas had awoken from uthenera weaker and more disoriented than ever before. Of course, this time, he'd barely entered willingly. The energy which it had taken to create the separation between the Beyond and the physical world had depleted him of nearly all of his energy. The subsequent realization of what he'd done had been the final straw, the last puzzle piece to snap into place. With the Evanuris gone, his people would be safe. They could prosper. Begin again. He was no longer needed. He was alone and no longer needed.

And so, exhausted, he'd entered uthenera, with no intention of returning.

For millennia he'd wandered this new version of the Beyond, meeting Spirits, learning of wars, of more slavery, of new races, of evil and strife, and Corruption. He learned of Blights and Grey Wardens and Archdemons. He learned new languages. He'd watched, in horror, as his people fell, as they quickened and aged and lost their culture; forgot who they were; forgot their language and writing; forgot their art; desperately tried to piece it back together again. He watched as spirits were driven mad by his creation, twisted into demons… lost their purpose. This was not what he'd wanted, what he'd meant to happen. He had to undo it.

It took him a long time to claw his way back out of uthenera. He'd move a few steps forward and then, he'd fall back into the Beyond, drawn by a spirit, or knowledge, or the desire to simply not awaken to face his mistakes. But finally, he'd gathered his willpower and awoke.

The first thing he became aware of was how weak he truly was. Weak. Tired. Hungry. Thirsty. Cold. He couldn't remember where he'd left his body, where he was in relation to the world he'd known or the world it was today. It had taken him nearly three days to make his way from what he'd meant to be his tomb out into the sun. It hurt to see again, and he blinked against the light.

The memories and knowledge from the Beyond swirled through his head, confusing him. Ancient Elvhen mixed with Dalish mixed with Common and Dwarven and even Qunari. Time and places and names and events were confusing. It was too much. He needed food. He needed water. He needed rest; real rest, not uthenera. A forest had grown up around him; one he didn't remember being there when he'd gone to sleep. He stumbled aimlessly through the woods, aware of his nakedness. He had to stop every few feet and he slipped into sleep far too easily. It was good, though. Wisdom came to him. She told him how to reach the stream, told him he could get help there. He didn't dwell too much on her words; he simply accepted them as truth.

When he stumbled out of the woods and into the clearing with the stream, he didn't notice the other person. He simply noticed the water. It was cool and clean and refreshing. It restored him. He couldn't seem to drink enough to quench a millennium of thirst. He collapsed on the bank, nearly slipping into sleep again, even though he was still thirsty.

"Hello."

The unfamiliar word had startled him out of his respite, his heart pounding in his chest as he scrambled to his feet and cast a barrier. It was almost instinctive to protect himself. It worried him at how weak it had been. She kept talking, and his brain was slow at making sense of the language he knew but had never spoken. It was crude. Basic. Childishly simplistic.

It took him a few seconds to grasp together the sentence, to piece together the words, but it took longer to coax his disused vocal cords into movement, to force his tongue and lips to move in the right way to make the sounds happen. "I am called… Solas," he answered hoarsely.

She smiled at him, and he relaxed, allowing his barrier to fall rather than expending his energy to sustain it. He sat slowly. "It's a pleasure to meet you," she said, and she sat next to him, laid her staff on the ground, still within reach, but no longer a threat. She reached into a pouch at her side and withdrew a red bottle, holding it out to him. "Here… it's a health potion. Elfroot, mostly. It should help some."

"Thank you," he said, accepting the bottle. He had two choices. He could suspect she was an agent of an enemy who was trying to kill him, or he could accept her kindness for what it was. _Fool, what enemies could you possibly have in the physical world?_ Nevertheless, he didn't drink immediately. Instead, he settled down next to her, let his eyes rake over her and take in what he could observe.

She was a mage, but she moved like a hunter, quick and light on her feet. She reminded him of himself that way. Had she lived long enough to have two careers, two lives? No, she was barely an adult, merely an infant compared to him. They were all infants. He had caused that. He swallowed hard and looked at her again. Her dark hair was close-cropped, short, and a bit wild. Her sliver gray eyes sparkled with intrigue, intelligence, and… something else, something hard and dark, like the edge of a dagger. Her lips were plump and soft, begging to be kissed. Her arms were lean and strong, breasts large, but firm, and her waist drew in tightly before flaring out at the hips. He bet she had a delicious ass, perched just atop athletic thighs, both silky smooth and firm enough to choke out an enemy. In short, she was beautiful.

In his younger years, Solas would not have hesitated to bed her, right then, right there. He would run his hands over his body until she was squirming in desire, follow it with his tongue. He would lick her, taste her sweetness, make her moan in ecstasy. And just when neither of them could take any more he would claim her as his own. But thankfully, those years had passed, and he could be sensible. They barely knew each other's names.

Also thankfully, his body was too tired to react to that line of thought, because he'd gave a hearty attempt at stirring and he was… still… irrefutably… naked.

She flushed from his gaze falling on her for too long. "You have to drink it for it to work," she prompted, glancing at him sideways.

He uncorked the bottle and sniffed at it. It smelled familiar. Not exactly like potions they'd brewed before, but close, so without further hesitation, he drank heartily. The warmth spread through his body quickly, starting in his belly and spreading outward. His aches and pains which he'd barely acknowledged had begun to fade, and the rust on his vocal cords began to flake away steadily. He corked the bottle and handed it back to her. "Thank you," he said earnestly, his voice finding its full timbre finally.

Their fingers brushed as the potion's bottle passed between them. Despite himself, Solas's breath caught. Her soft fingers on his skin felt like a new sensation, and it temporarily overwhelmed him. Millenia of uthenera had left him raw to sensations. It was unnerving.

But had it, really? The grass and soil and rocks beneath his feet had no effect. Neither did the water or the smoothness of the glass container.

Maybe it was _her_.

"What Circle did you escape from?" she asked him. There was something in her eyes that had turned dark and wary.

He heard the words, but they made no sense. Not at first. Then he remembered the Mage Circles he saw in the Beyond; the _prisons_ Elvhen and shemlen mages were rounded up in because of fear of demons, and indirectly, because of him. He clenched his jaw. "I'm not from a Circle," he scoffed.

"Well, you aren't Dalish," she challenged, and she finally turned to look at him unabashedly. Her gaze swept over him and he thought there was a bit of heat to it.

"No," he agreed.

"You have no vallaslin," she stated simply, "which means you must be from an alienage. You're also a mage, which means you would have been sent to a Circle."

"Mmmm," he stated noncommittally. "I could be an escaped slave… untrained in magic."

"No. You cast a barrier," she answered narrowing her eyes at him. He could almost see the wheels turning as she tried to piece together the puzzle of him. "Regardless, I can't let you wander about Thedas naked and weak," she said after a moment. "Let's make a deal."

 _Haven't you ever heard not to make a deal with Fen'Harel?_ "What deal is that?"

"I have a lyrium potion," she said softly, "and you are low enough on mana, I'm not sure how you're even conscious. I can feel it. I will give this potion to you, and you will come with me to my clan. You will not hurt me or anyone else from my clan. We will get you some clothes, some supplies, and when you are strong enough, you will be on your way."

"What's to stop me from killing you and taking the potion now that you've revealed it?" he asked with less of an edge that he'd hoped to muster. He missed being younger. She made him want to have that dangerous edge of hot-blooded anger and cockiness of his youth. He had a feeling she would like that.

She laughed at him. "I could kill you easily even if you attempted to attack right now if that pitiful barrier was any indication. Regardless of your past, you are Elvhen. There are few enough of us as there are. I wouldn't kill you without reason."

She was shrewd. Beautiful and shrewd and intriguing and she bore Mythal's markings. How? Why? How could she possibly have those marks? He wanted to ask her, but it didn't feel appropriate. Not now. Not yet.

"I accept your terms," he answered. She seemed to want surprisingly little.

She produced another potion bottle and held it out to him. It glowed a gentle blue and this… was exactly as he remembered. He uncapped it and drank without hesitation, wincing at the acrid taste. In several millennia, they'd not managed to improve on the taste. Shame, really. He instantly felt the jump in his power and his energy, and his body began to pluck at the energy around him, finally stimulated to gather mana in larger quantities. There was less of the raw power of the Beyond now, less of it to draw to him. That was his fault.

He handed the bottle back to her wordlessly.

She took it back, grinning at him brightly. "And now, to convince Keeper Istimaethoriel to allow you to stay."

Solas raised an eyebrow. "You made a deal you didn't have the power to make?"

"I'm the Keeper's First. In her absence, I am empowered to make decisions which affect the clan. You don't see her here, do you?" she asked as she stood and offered a hand to him.

Solas couldn't help his amusement and probably wasn't successful in hiding it if the mischievous sparkle in her eye were any indication. "A mere technicality, da'len, one I hope your Keeper views the same."

* * *

 

The mage who had appeared from the woods was an enigma. He didn't answer her questions directly, but he didn't avoid them either. There was something about him. Aravas was inexplicably drawn to him; she trusted him. It didn't make sense. Every bit of her upbringing told her to be wary of strangers. True, her Clan was less strict about that, more open to dealing with strangers and shemlen, more open to peace… but this was a bit far, even for them. If he were a slave, that meant they'd get the attention of slave hunters; if he was from a Circle, from Templars. Neither would be good. Though he hadn't answered who he was, she didn't believe anyone - anyone at all - would be looking for him.

As she led him through the woods, she wondered how old he was. He was older than her, for sure, but his age was vague. Almost as vague as his answers. He had called her _da'len_ , so he must view her as a child, which was frustrating because what wasn't vague was his physique. He was skinnier than he should be, yet, he still had a long, lean musculature. If he weren't so weak right now, he could probably spar with the best of their hunters and possibly win.

She tried not to think of his exposed manhood, but it was difficult. He was… impressive… and part of her couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to bed him. It was similar to the thoughts she had every time she looked at Ghimyean. She wasn't virginal, not any longer, but her experience was limited to a few quick trysts with near strangers when they were trading or when they met up with other clans. There was nothing extremely memorable or earth-shattering about any of that handful of men. She was beyond ready for earth-shattering. She did her best to keep those trysts hidden, her indiscretions (particularly since some were with shemlen) could have cost her everything, but since she'd been made the Clan's First, no man or woman within the clan would look at her romantically. She was… lonely.

At least, that was how she justified it.

Aravas shoved the thoughts away as they neared the campsite and slowed a bit. Solas was able to keep up with her quick movements in the woods, but she could feel his energy fading, and she wondered what he had been through to so thoroughly drain him. She stopped at the edge of the woods, catching sight of their camp. "Wait here," she told him. Her eyes landed on Ghimyean, idly keeping guard of their camp, and she sighed softly. He was both exactly who she needed and who she didn't want to see. "I'm going to speak with… a friend… he should be able to provide you some clothes."

She felt Solas shift behind her, and she thought he might stop her for some reason. She didn't give him the ability. "Ghimyean," she called as she crossed to him. His handsome face had been adorned with Andruil's vallaslin and seeing it caused her heart to clench. At one time, she had wanted those markings for herself. They hadn't seemed appropriate for her new role. "Aneth ara."

Ghimyean froze at her voice but didn't look at her, instead, he moved to look behind her into the woods. "Aneth ara, Aravas," he stated stiffly. He lowered himself to a crouching position, narrowing his eyes. He probably saw Solas' movement and was trying to distinguish exactly what he was seeing. The pose was familiar to her; one part concentration, one part kinetic energy ready to spring into action.

"I saw a buck… a large one… around 15 points… by the river," she began. She ran a hand through her short hair almost nervously. She wished he would look at her. Just once. She missed her friend.

"Why didn't you take it?" Ghimyean asked. He still wouldn't look at her, and she groaned inwardly. He seemed to sniff at the air as if scenting, and Aravas wondered what he was doing. The wind shifted, and she caught it - the hint of rain far in the distance. Lovely, Ghimyean was more interested in the weather than he was what she was saying.

"I had my staff, and it's… not really my job, Ghimyean," she said with a sigh.

"Wouldn't have mattered when we were kids," Ghimyean retorted. He seemed to glance at her, then. At least, at her staff and legs. But he still didn't meet her eyes. "You always went after larger prey than we were supposed to."

"I just… thought I'd tell you because he's large and aggressive, and we need to try to find him so that we can make room for the younger bucks. If anyone can do it, it's you."

"Or your father," Ghimyean countered.

Her jaw clenched. "Fine, I'll tell him," she snapped. "Maybe he'll appreciate it." Without thinking she turned away from him, intending to storm off, but Ghimyean grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she wondered if maybe he was going to do… _something_ … anything to show that he returned her interest. She had been waiting for years.

"Aravas… today… today I…"

"Yes?" she asked softly. Ghimyean sounded so serious… so sad… she wondered what he could possibly be trying to tell her.

"Eirlana." His hand was gripping her tightly, and if she didn't know better she would have thought he was shaking.

"Eirlana?" she asked softly. The girl was a couple of years older than them. She was an artisan, a craftswoman who was learning to make jewelry and weapons. Her work was adequate, but not quite beautiful. Still, with the extra hands learning the trade, they'd been able to bring in a bit more money the last couple of years. Which was good. She was a rubbish hunter who couldn't skin a kill and who had destroyed leather the one time she'd attempted to tan. She wasn't particularly intelligent or beautiful, but she had found a trade. She was also sweet and kind… and utterly tame.

"We… met with the Keeper and announced our intention to… bond."

She forgot to breathe. She forgot to think. Her heart stopped. Ghimyean's green eyes met with hers for the first time in years, and she was afraid he would see the tears that threatened to spill. She swallowed and forced a smile on her face. "That's fantastic, Ghimyean. She's… a sweet woman. I know you'll be happy for many years."

"Ir abelas," he said softly. "I should have told you sooner-"

"No… uh… no. No reason to. I'm happy for you, truly." He was stroking her wrist softly, his finger tracing circles on the inside of it lightly. If it was supposed to be soothing, it simply wasn't working, and the tender gesture was causing her more distress. How… why… could he do this? Why would he tell her this and then behave this way? She'd only been trying to butter him up before asking him for clothes for- "Solas!" she gasped. The force of Ghimyean's confession had shocked her into forgetting the other man, and she glanced over her shoulder.

Ghimyean frowned deeply. "Pardon?"

"When I was gathering herbs, a city elf stumbled into the clearing. He was naked and weak… and I brought him here. He needs clothes, Ghimyean… yours should fit him."

"And his name is Solas?" Ghimyean asked with a snort. He had let go of her wrist, but his hand had slid lower and was holding her hand. She was trying not to think about it, especially about how confusing it was that he was doing it now that he had promised himself to another woman. Her chest hurt. Her very soul hurt. She didn't know why; she'd nearly given up hope on him long ago.

"Yes." The word came out choked and forced. She was trying to focus on the problem at hand, and not the problem of _his_ hand, but it was difficult.

"You went into the woods and found… naked Pride?" There was laughter in his voice, and Aravas couldn't help but see the irony of the situation. Her - the woman he had accused of being so prideful she'd draw the attention of Fen'Harel - had come back with a defenseless elf named Pride. As amusing as it was, it didn't help the situation.

"Ghimyean, I'm serious," she said in frustration. "I promised him help. I need to speak with the Keeper. Will you lend him some of your clothing?"

He dropped her hand then and stood slowly in a fluid motion. "Of course," he said softly. "I'll do whatever I can to assist, Aravas." The answer was too formal and was followed by a small bow. He was back to treating her like the First and not like his friend, and she wanted to scream in frustration. Instead, she motioned for Solas to emerge from the woods, and he did so, stumbling on his feet. He looked to be seconds from passing out. Again. Ghimyean blanched a bit at the situation. "You weren't kidding," he mumbled as she rolled her eyes at him. He glanced around almost nervously before his eyes landed on a nearby fur that was just about done curing. He grabbed the pelt and draped it over Solas, providing him at least some modesty before traipsing him through the camp. "I assume you and the Keeper will come to collect him soon," he said briskly.

"We will, Ghimyean… and thank you. As always." Ghimyean didn't respond as he led the older elf away, the stranger doing his best to walk of his own accord, but wavering precariously on his feet and leaning against Ghimyean when the younger man offered his support.

For half a minute, Aravas gave into the crushing realization that Ghimyean chose someone else, and she wondered what that meant for her future. Would she be alone? Forever? She inhaled sharply, pushing the pain away and resolutely went to find the Keeper.

She found Deshanna in her tent in the middle of the encampment, pouring over a new tome on defensive magic. Barriers were easy, but wards… wards took either instinct or years to master, and her clan had not had a Keeper who had mastered wards in several decades. Deshanna was determined that between the two of them, and maybe help from a second if one ever presented themselves, they would unlock the mysteries. She'd even discussed with Aravas the possibility of taking on a mage from another clan at the next hahren'al - one who, although not fully trained - may have experience in warding.

It seemed like a wise decision.

Deshanna glanced up from the tome, sensing Aravas watching her, and immediately frowned. Whatever she thought of her ability to ignore her emotional state, Aravas realized immediately that Deshanna had seen through it. "What's wrong, da'len?"

"Nothing," she answered quickly. Maybe too quickly, if Deshanna's raised eyebrow was any indication. "I went to collect herbs as we discussed," she began. She lifted the full pack from her shoulder and placed it on the table. "But… while I was out, I came across a clanless elf. He was weak and naked. I offered him help. Ghimyean is finding him clothes."

Deshanna's critical examination of her stopped as soon as she said the name of the young hunter, and she hated that she had been so obvious about her feelings. She thought she'd hid them well. Her father had never asked, and Ghimyean seemed absolutely clueless. "You offered him help without consulting me?"

She nodded once, chewing on the inside of her cheek. "I understand the risks, and he's aware that he cannot stay long-term."

"There's something you aren't telling me," Deshanna gleaned. "If he's simply from an alienage and wished to leave city life behind there is very little risk involved."

"He's a mage," Aravas confessed without hesitation.

"Trained?"

"Enough," Aravas supplied. "He cast a barrier… without a staff, by the way. It was weak, but so was he. Either way, I suspect the risk of him becoming an abomination or accidentally summoning demons is low."

"So the risk is-"

"Potentially drawing Templars or… slave hunters, if he's an escaped slave."

"You should not have invited him here without consulting me first," Deshanna admonished. "Are you sure he's not from another clan?"

Aravas nodded and relaxed a bit. She hadn't truly expected Deshanna to be angry with her, really, but the Keeper was being much more… diplomatic… than she'd expected. Aravas wasn't sure why, but that made her slightly nervous. "No vallaslin," she answered.

Deshanna nodded a bit as if considering the development. "Since you have offered him help, and thoroughly considered the impact on the Clan, I see no reason to retract your offer - for now. But if there is the slightest hint of trouble… we'll have to rescind. Do you understand?"

"Of course, Keeper. That's a given."

"Now, I'd like to meet him," she stepped from her tent and stopped one of the children running by, asking them to go to Ghimyean's tent and have him bring their guest. As she stepped back into the tent, she glanced at Aravas, her eyes sparkling a bit, "I wonder what the chances are the Creators saw fit to send us a mage trained in wards."

Aravas laughed a little bit, wondering if that had been Deshanna's thought process the entire time. If so, it seemed like a poor reason to allow Solas to stay, but Aravas wasn't going to complain since it got her what she wanted. "Perhaps," she said with a shrug. She lowered herself to sit, staff across her lap, just a few moments before Ghimyean opened the tent.

"Sorry for the intrusion, Keeper Istimaethoriel," he said with a slight bow. "I know you sent for the visitor - Solas - but…" he glanced at Aravas out of the corner of his eye and frowned deeply, "he barely managed to pull on a pair of breeches before he fell asleep. I tried to wake him, but it was no use."

The Keeper sighed and nodded. "Do you mind terribly if you play host until he wakes, Ghimyean? If so, we can find him somewhere else."

Ghimyean's jaw clenched, but he looked at Aravas again and then back to their Keeper. "No… no… it's fine. I'll be sure to send him as soon as he wakes."


	2. Into the Beyond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Solas was dressed in a long green tunic and simple cotton leggings, a black wolf pelt draped across his shoulder. A pendant made from a wolf’s jaw hung heavily on his neck. This was not what he’d been wearing before. In fact, the last thing he remembered was pulling on pants given to him by a Dalish boy and then… this._  
>  Fenedhis lasa.  
>  _He was in the Beyond. Unintentionally. He’d fallen asleep._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick note about updates: These first two chapters have been quick to write, but I'm not currently working and have far too much free time right now. My goal will be one chapter a week until this particular story is finished or I go back to work, whichever comes first. I will _not_ hold updates, though. If I finish something and feel comfortable posting it, you'll get it as soon as it is ready!

Solas was dressed in a long green tunic and simple cotton leggings, a black wolf pelt draped across his shoulder. A pendant made from a wolf's jaw hung heavily on his neck. This was not what he'd been wearing before. In fact, the last thing he remembered was pulling on pants given to him by a Dalish boy and then… this.

_Fenedhis lasa._

He was in the Beyond. Unintentionally. He'd fallen asleep.

He sighed softly and sat on the ground observing this area of the Beyond in mild interest. It vaguely resembled the area where the Dalish were camping. The Dalish. They were barely Elvhen, a mere whisper of what they could have been - and mostly wrong about what they were.

He huffed in frustration. The Beyond was incredibly boring when one didn't have a purpose to being there. He didn't want to wander off, to find a Spirit or some hidden bit of knowledge accidentally or to stumble into some bit of the past to observe. The temptation to stay would be too great. But it was relatively safe here - no powerful demons lurking, no twisted realities perverted by his barrier, no darkness or evil, no sense of dread or horror, nothing to tempt him. It was relatively benign. It was calm. It was peaceful. It was… boring.

He'd have forced himself awake if he didn't desperately need the sleep.

He genuinely couldn't remember the last time he'd come here without meaning to, and yet, he'd done it multiple times today upon waking from uthenera. What he'd done, crafting the barrier - no, the Veil is what they called it - crafting the Veil, and subsequently entering uthenera for millennia, had nearly sapped him of all of his power and the control of that power.

Getting it back would be a struggle. He needed time and he would need help. Spirits could assist him with finding agents. He would need to reactivate the eluvians to aid in his travels and locate a focus to help tear it down. He would be too weak to activate it now, but if he could find a shemlen with enough power to tear the Veil, they would die in the process and he could take the anchor. It wouldn't take him long to build up enough power to control the focus. It was the activation that was the problem.

So there. That was his plan, as feeble as it was. Wisdom had led him to the girl, and she had insisted the girl could help. Perhaps he had gained an ally, an agent already. Being Elvhen - no, Dalish - perhaps she would see that the Veil was a mistake. Perhaps her loyalty to Mythal could be used to convince her to aid him. And what of that loyalty? How was it possible this many years later there were still those who bore her mark?

That was a thought process for another time, a question he couldn't really answer without asking Aravas, and one that wasn't essential at this moment. What was important was locating someone to activate the focus. He thought about the events he'd witnessed in the Fade. There was the man who had blown up the Circle in Kirkwall; his methods, although crude, had been efficient, and his motivation was close enough to Solas' own that perhaps it could be redirected. There was that witch… who had discovered the eluvians and bore a child in Between… kept him hidden. She was certainly powerful enough, but she was also hungry for more power and respect. She reminded him a bit too much of the Evanuris he'd locked away to begin with. The Hero of Ferelden she'd traveled with, then… or that Champion of Kirkwall Anders had loved. Maybe even that elf who'd gotten her hands on another eluvian in Kirkwall.

Maybe.

There was time to settle on someone, still. If it were one of them, they would have to be trained; he would have to encourage them to build their power and their focus.

Or… Aravas was a mage. Relatively powerful if his dulled senses were correct. Perhaps she would be better suited to activating the focus, rather than assisting him as an agent. Perhaps she would be a willing sacrifice, someone to activate the focus to willingly tear down the Veil to save her People. It would be a regrettable sacrifice, but it could work.

Except they had made a deal, and Fen'Harel didn't abandon a deal. He couldn't hurt her or her clan. He should have thought that through in its entirety.

"Hmm," Solas hummed to himself noncommittally, wondering how much time had passed in the physical world. That was the problem with the Beyond, time and space were distorted, and he had no way of telling if he'd been asleep for minutes or hours. The only thing he could do was wait for himself to wake up. He was beginning to consider pacing or maybe practicing some archery or swordplay or something… anything… to keep himself entertained.

He felt her presence before he saw her, and his heart seemed to jump at the sight of her back. _Foolish old man_ , he admonished himself. He'd tempted some sort of Spirit with thoughts of Aravas, and they'd taken her shape.  Perhaps it was Sacrifice wanting to talk through his plan or…

 _Desire_.

He shoved the thought away and waited for it to interact with him. But it didn't. It - she - seemed slightly disoriented. Not a Spirit then. He was surprised to know that anyone could come to the Beyond, now. He'd seen a few living beings, occasionally, but had assumed as time progressed, they'd stop being able to cross. His assumption was apparently wrong, or the Veil hadn't had that horrific consequence, yet.

He could ignore her or wait for her to notice him. If modern blunderings in the Beyond were as pathetic as their attempts at magic, she'd likely never notice him. He could force himself awake and avoid the interaction entirely. It wouldn't be-

"Aravas, I didn't expect to see you here," he said before he consciously made the decision to greet her.

* * *

 

She didn't remember how she got here. She was at the campsite, but there were no tents or aravels. It was as if Clan Lavellan had simply picked up and left her. She frowned a bit and tried to think. It was afternoon, but what had she done that morning? Where was her staff? What had she eaten? When had she gotten dressed?

_Fenedhis lasa._

She was in the Beyond. Unintentionally. Again.

"Aravas… I didn't expect to see you here."

The voice that greeted her was a warm baritone, soothing and soulful. _Solas?_ Strange that she could recognize his voice after such a short time. Stranger still that he was here with her, or that a Spirit or Demon would take his form for her. Desire or Rage usually took Ghimyean's form; Pride her father's. She had yet to experience Terror, Fear, Sloth, Hunger, or Envy, but she was certain Envy would come to her as Eirlana, now.

So this wasn't a Demon, then. Perhaps it was a benevolent Spirit.

She turned to look at him, and let her eyes sweep over his body. He looked… good. He appeared to be much stronger, his face was fuller, his complexion rosier and less sallow. He was wearing clothes she'd never seen him in. If this were a Spirit, it would have taken the same form she was familiar with - weakened, almost sickly, and naked. So this was the man, then, in the flesh… no… soul? Whatever it was that came to the Beyond. He was a mage; she shouldn't have been so surprised.

"We're in the Beyond?" she asked, even though she had already come to that conclusion herself. She was a bit nervous at the prospect of meeting another mage in the Beyond. She had known it was a possibility, but it was usually highly discouraged. The more mages present, the more likely a demon would be drawn by their power.

"Yes," he answered as he looked up at her, from his seated position. He didn't seem surprised or even the least bit concerned about their predicament. For some reason, that put her at ease. If Solas had been worried, her own nervousness would have jumped exponentially.

She nodded and took a seat next to him, crossing her legs comfortably. "And you're not a Demon or a Spirit?"

"Decidedly not," he answered with a bit of a smirk. He was watching her closely and she felt a blush creeping up her cheeks. He was difficult to read, and the intensity with which he was watching her made her slightly uncomfortable. It was as if he were trying to unlock a puzzle, to read the secrets of her very soul. But then, wasn't that what she was doing to him?

"I thought not," she admitted after a slight pause. "You seem… better."

"I'm stronger here," Solas answered somberly, "for now." _For now?_ That was interesting, and not at all the answer she was expecting. She couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at him. Silence fell between them, and Aravas began to wonder why they were here in the same place. Was it intentional? Had they somehow brought themselves together? Had he somehow brought her here? Solas cleared his throat, "your _friend_ -"

"Ghimyean?" she asked, noticing the emphasis he put on the word friend. Was he hinting there was more? Was he jealous? "The one who's breeches you're wearing while sleeping?"

Solas' lips pressed together thinly, not quite in anger… maybe in irritation. He nodded. "Yes… _him_ … do you trust him?"

"Yes, of course," she answered without hesitation. It seemed like a bizarre line of questioning. Did Solas have some reason _not_ to trust him? Was he regretting asking him for help? Did he want to leave the clan already?

"Even though he has Andruil's vallaslin?"

Aravas blinked at Solas, her face scrunching up in confusion. What did one thing have to do with the other? It wasn't as if he were walking around with Fen'Harel's marks - not that those existed - but _still_. Why shouldn't someone with Andruil's markings be trusted? Did he even understand blood writing? "Do you not understand vallaslin?" she asked without meaning to. Damn the Beyond's ability to lower your defenses.

"Perhaps I understand them better than you," Solas scoffed. "Please… _enlighten_ me as to their meaning."

She had not been expecting that reaction and she swallowed, watching Solas closely. Had she angered him? Upset him in some way? Did he think she was implying he wasn't a true elf? She knew that some city elves believed the Dalish looked down on them, but that wasn't in her nature. All Elvhen were true Elvhen to her; they had different customs perhaps, but that wasn't their fault. "I did not mean to offend-" she began softly.

"It's inconsequential, I'm more curious about the Dalish understanding of vallaslin than I am concerned with such a minor thing as my _ego_ ," Solas replied.

"I'm sure you're aware, after the fall of Arlathan, most of our people were taken into slavery. Our captors took nearly everything from us - language, culture, art… even our Gods. Once we regained our freedom and settled in the Dales, we began to rebuild from scraps of verbal history, ancient artifacts and writings found in ruins. The vallaslin is our reminder to never again surrender our traditions and our beliefs; our way of fighting back against our oppression. We choose the God whose favor we wish to attract or who's ideals we wish to embody."

"You chose Mythal?" The expression on his face was nigh unreadable, but Solas was certainly hiding something from her. He seemed close to telling her. She couldn't imagine what it could possibly be.

"Yes. I'm to be Keeper one day," she explained. She wondered why any of this mattered to him, and why she was bothering to explain. "It's my responsibility to lead my people, to keep them safe, and honor our culture. I hope to do so with love, compassion, and justice. There are conflicting stories of her, and sometimes she is depicted as dark and vengeful, but I can understand how that might be necessary. If something were to happen to my Clan under my watch… I'm not sure anything would stop me from destroying those responsible."

"And… Ghimyean chose Andruil?"

"He's a hunter," she answered with a shrug. She had broken his gaze finally, idly picking at the grass next to her. She wondered what it was about this man that made her so nervous. "It's the most obvious choice for him. Some people aren't quite so literal, but Ghimyean always wanted to be the best hunter we had"

"And is he?" Solas asked. He seemed to have already concluded Ghimyean was not the best hunter in their clan.

"One of the best," she conceded.

"Better than you?"

"I'm not a hunter," she replied quickly, avoiding the question. He regarded her closely, and she shifted under his gaze. She could tell he wanted to challenge that, but he seemed to think better of it, and she was glad. The last thing she wanted to do was discuss what could have been while in the Beyond. She was lucky she hadn't attracted the attention of a Demon already.

* * *

 

He wasn't quite sure what to make of the woman before him. One moment, he'd been considering using her as a willing sacrifice, the next she had joined him in the Beyond, and she was explaining her culture and beliefs to him. It was sad to him that the Dalish willingly bore slave markings, not understanding their origins; they were literally representative of the thing they wished to fight against. Though truth be known, her reasoning for choosing to bear Mythal's markings was eloquent. The way she spoke about it, he believed she could accomplish embodying the spirit of Mythal… if that's what she believed Mythal was like. It was idealistic, yes, and Solas had always believed Mythal was the best of them, but this woman - no, _girl_ \- could certainly be close.

He had to correct his thought process of her as a woman, because that could be dangerous for him… and possibly for her.

He watched the shadows cross her face as he asked her about Ghimyean and about being a hunter, and he wondered exactly what the full story was there. There was certainly more to her than met the eye, and Solas was starting to find himself inexplicably drawn to finding out exactly what it was. That was an equally dangerous path to follow.

"So how long has Ghimyean loved you and do you return his feelings?" Solas asked, the question catching him off-guard. That wasn't what he had meant to ask. At all. He shouldn't have cared enough to ask. He _didn't_ care enough to ask, but there he was asking anyway.

"Hah!" she laughed deeply, throwing her head back as if his question was the funniest thing anyone could say. "Ghimyean doesn't love me," she explained as she turned to look at him, their eyes locking. Solas felt that same strange hitching of his breath he had experienced when their fingers touched briefly, and fluttering of his heart that simply shouldn't be happening. "He's chosen to bond with another woman," she added.

"What?" he asked, confusion clear on his face and in his voice.

"Marriage. He's marrying someone else," she stated as if he were perhaps a little dense. The statement wasn't any clearer to Solas, and he had to go digging into the memories he'd gained while in uthenera for an explanation. Marriage wasn't even a concept to practically immortal beings. It simply wasn't reasonable to expect two people to spend thousands of years devoted to only one another. It wasn't as if there wasn't love…  or relationships… or devotion. There were even exclusive pairings which lasted for long stretches of time. He and Mythal had been nearly inseparable for centuries. But the only constant in nature was change, no matter how slow it was, and they eventually grew apart. It was inevitable, even if it were just due to… boredom.

That being said, it didn't seem as if marriage required love, particularly when some societies practiced arranged marriages. They could be simply business arrangements, meant to consolidate money or land or power. Some Dalish clans practiced arranged marriages to ensure enough children were being produced. Solas found it all very… confusing.

"I see," he answered, even though he wasn't sure he did. She seemed to sense that, so she let the silence sit for a long time, the pregnant pause giving him time to adjust to what she'd revealed. It didn't seem to help, really, although he could admit, since the Dalish were no longer immortal it didn't seem so odd they would start adopting shemlen traditions. Then there was the idea that Ghimyean had loved Aravas, and had chosen another woman. Was he a madman? Or was he simply unlucky? Did Aravas not return his feelings?

"Do you have any experience with warding?" she asked suddenly.

He nearly laughed aloud. Experience? He'd practically invented the discipline. "Some," he answered, unable to keep a smirk off his face. He was grateful her question had drug him from his thoughts on love and marriage. Magic was neutral territory and something of infinite interest to him.

"Keeper Istimaethoriel will be pleased," she replied. "Luckily, we've avoided much fallout from the Mage-Templar war so far, but the little news we've gotten in the last weeks seems like things are getting worse. Our Clan isn't large enough to hold out against a full out attack from either side, so the more we can do to protect it… the better."

He had picked up knowledge of the mage rebellion recently, and Aravas was right. From what he had seen, the conflict was getting much worse. There were… dark forces at play. They were part of what had prompted his awakening. So much was being twisted against its nature, and the Veil he'd erected was part of the problem. "Surely your mages are talented enough to put up a good fight, and your hunters…"

"Our mages? All two of us?" Aravas scoffed and ran a hand through her hair. She was eying him critically now. "You… really aren't familiar with the Dalish at all, are you? Not even the way a city elf should be… and you certainly weren't a slave. Who… what _are_ you Solas?" She shifted, adjusting the way she was sitting to face him, legs still crossed underneath her, but she was looking at him fully now, making it clear she was waiting for an explanation.

He knew he couldn't tell her the truth, not really, though some part of him wanted to. It wasn't as if she'd believe it anyway. He wasn't sure he could outright lie to her either. "I'm from the north," he answered after only a slight hesitation. "Just a small village, not large enough for an alienage. There's somewhat of a truce between the elves and the shemlen there because everyone's just trying to survive. There's a few mages, some apostates from other places, some of us born there. I learned what I could from them, and then I left. I went looking for knowledge."

One bowed eyebrow peaked cautiously above her silver eyes, and he got the distinct impression she didn't believe him entirely. "And you ended up here? In the Free Marches? Naked and too weak to stay awake?"

"I spent too much time in the Beyond," he answered. There. The truth. Somewhat. "It drained me."

"You come here intentionally?" she asked. Her other brow joined the first now, her eyes widened with shock.

"Of course. You don't? There's lots of lost knowledge available here if one would only listen to the Spirits."

"Mmmm… there's lots of danger here, too, if one happens to listen to the demons," she countered. Her shock and surprise seemed to mitigate itself, and her voice held something dark. Not quite fear, but an edge. He wondered what demons she'd been tempted by and how she had bested them.

"True, but you seem clever enough. I don't think a demon would have an easy time with you." He hadn't meant to compliment her, but it wasn't a lie. He barely knew her, but Aravas was certainly making an impression. From what he had seen, most mages in this age were terrified of the Beyond, and although this situation made her a bit nervous, she hadn't run, and she hadn't admonished him for spending time in the Beyond intentionally.

She flushed a bit at the compliment and shrugged. The action belied the intensity of the question that followed. "So… let me get this straight. You… intentionally stripped naked, disposed of your staff and belongings, entered the Beyond… and then… stayed too long?"

"I… well… I…" he stumbled over the hole in his story. He'd forgotten the naked part. It should have been difficult to forget that, but it had seemed such a trivial detail. It was difficult to explain _why_ he'd been naked and so disoriented. "Essentially… yes."

She narrowed her eyes at him, regarding him closely. "Were… were you attempting… some sort of… modern uthenera?"

Solas managed to keep his face passive, but his heart was beating rapidly. How could she have gotten so close to the truth, so quickly? "No. Of course not."

"Good," she said, silver eyes sparkling mischievously. He wasn't sure she believed him, but she didn't seem willing to question him further. "Because that would be a sign of insanity, and the Keeper will _not_ let you stay if you're insane." She cocked her head to the side as if hearing something in the distance and Solas strained to hear what she was hearing. There was nothing. "I think I'm waking up," she said. "I hear the rain on my tent and the camp beginning to stir. It must be in the physical world. Solas, listen to me. Don't tell anyone you've talked to me here. They don't know… they don't know how often or how long I stay in the Beyond. They wouldn't like it."

"Of course not. You can trust me." What? Why in the Void had he said something foolish like that?

She leaned forward at his proclamation and gently brushed her lips against his cheek. "Ma serranas," she whispered, her warm breath a caress against his skin. Solas inhaled sharply as his heart rate picked up from that simple action. He licked his lips and turned to regard her closely but she was already gone.


	3. Of Wards and Fen'Harel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Are you really not familiar with Fen'Harel?" she asked._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _This. Again. How often was he going to hear about things he'd lived through that were interpreted so poorly? How often was someone going to tell him about himself? "Perhaps not in the way you are," he settled._
> 
>  
> 
> _She nodded and licked her lips before beginning. "Fen'Harel is regarded as the trickster God. He's neither evil nor good, really, but he's not entirely wholesome either. He was both regarded as one of the Forgotten Ones and as one of the Creators, trusted by both clans. His most infamous act was locking both away after he convinced them he would broker peace and end their war. It's said, after accomplishing the act he disappeared to the edge of the world and laughed and laughed and laughed. They often blame his Great Betrayal for the fall of Arlathan - because the Gods are locked away they couldn't prevent the fall. But we also use statues of him for protection against evil spirits and give him offerings as appeasements. The Keeper's primary duties - beyond piecing together our history and leading the clan - is to protect them from Fen'Harel."_

The three mages sat in silence around the small table set up in Deshanna's tent. Solas had been with Clan Lavellan for a few weeks now and had been steadily improving. He had gained weight and his complexion had improved; he was closer to being the man who had met with Aravas in the Fade. He hadn't even needed a mid-day nap in a few days.

Aravas was pleased with how easily he'd seemed to fit in with the Clan. He was respectful, if a bit distant, and he only took exactly what he needed. Deshanna had offered to replace his missing staff, but Solas had turned her down, resolutely stating he would craft his own if only their weapons master would lend him tools. True to his word, he had crafted a beautiful staff of wood and bone, which rarely, if ever, left his side. Aravas was tempted to ask Ghimyean if the other man even slept with the staff.

Solas sighed heavily in frustration and slammed the tome on warding shut, pressing his fingertips into his eyes. It was possibly the worst thing he'd ever read on magic with pathetically strewn together theories and fundamentally incorrect knowledge. He wondered if this author had ever seen a ward much less successfully cast one.

"Do you have any thoughts?" Deshanna asked, breaking the silence. The Keeper was watching Solas closely as if trying to discern from his face what he could possibly be thinking. If anyone could do it, Deshanna was the one. He was still extremely difficult to read for Aravas. Normally, the longer one spent with someone the easier it got. Solas seemed to vacillate between easy for her to read and being a complete mystery.

"Several," Solas practically growled at the text as he stood and began pacing, arms clasped firmly behind his back.

"Any you'd care to share?" Aravas prompted.

Solas stopped short, pressed his lips firmly together, and contemplated whether he really wanted to say what he was thinking. He decided he couldn't stop himself. "The author is an imbecile. His entire premise is faulty. You can toss this drivel into the next campfire, as it will serve the clan better as kindling than it will as a primer on defensive warding."

"I told you," Deshanna declared, violet eyes sparkling in amusement at Aravas. "I knew this book was basically useless."

Aravas clenched her jaw, looking from Solas to Deshanna. Deshanna regarded her with laughter in her eyes, but Solas seemed to be horrified that she found some value in the tome. "So… what's the faulty premise?" she asked, trying to distract him from her foolishness; her face was burning in embarrassment.

"The man seems to believe that wards are larger, more powerful glyphs," Solas stated as if that explained everything. His blue eyes were watching her closely, and Aravas sighed in frustration.

"Yes… and?" She prompted blush darkening, suddenly aware that she was - by far - the least experienced and knowledgeable person in the room. She hated feeling like she wasn't the best. _You can't always be perfect_ , Ghimyean's voice echoed in her memory.

"Glyphs are the exact opposite of the nature of a ward," Solas explained further. "You can't force something to operate counter to its nature. It may work, for a time, but it's unstable and easily corrupted." Solas internally flinched thinking of the Veil. Perhaps he should have taken his own advice. But then, he'd known what he was doing wasn't a perfect solution… it was still the best he'd had at the time.

"I'm sorry. I'm not following," Aravas admitted, crossing her arms over her chest. The heat had finally receded from her cheeks, and she was doing her best to keep her voice steady. She hated being embarrassed. "But then, I've never seen a ward in action…"

"How do you cast a glyph?" Deshanna asked her, interrupting her.

"What?" Aravas asked. Solas glanced at Deshanna, smiling a bit. Her two hahren seemed to be sharing the same thought, and Aravas was stuck on the outside, whatever knowledge they had wasn't accessible to her. She didn't even see how Deshanna's question was relevant.

"Answer the question, da'len," Solas encouraged. She sighed inwardly, wondering what she would have to do to get him to stop viewing her as a child. Likely it would take more than just impressing him with her knowledge, which obviously wasn't going to happen on _this_ particular subject.

"I'm not sure what you're getting at," she confessed, "but… I draw power from the Beyond, convert it to mana, and then set it in the shape of the elemental glyph I want."

"Precisely," Deshanna answered, and Solas nodded in agreement.

"Glyphs," he explained, beginning to pace again, "are energy stored in waiting. Their effects have been shaped by the caster and once placed, they are inert… until an outside triggering force is acted upon them. Once your enemy steps on them, for example, they erupt into flame or freeze solid or are electrocuted. But wards are actively exerting their magic on a constant basis; they are, inherently, energy in action. Their effects are _always_ working and only stop once they are broken."

Aravas exhaled sharply. "So you would have to constantly pour mana into them. If you stopped, your wards would fail."

Solas nodded. "Yes, which is why many mages fail at warding. The control it takes to successfully sustain wards is rare. Essentially, you have to isolate part of your power to feed the wards, and the larger the area or more complex the effect of the wards the more power it takes."

"Which means the two of us alone would never be able to ward the entire camp," Deshanna stated in resignation.

Aravas frowned. "We could, but we wouldn't be able to use offensive magic, too."

"That would place the burden of offense on our hunters," Deshanna objected. It wasn't as if they didn't think their hunters could protect them, but… if the force were large enough it was simply a numbers game. Warding would allow them to protect those who couldn't defend themselves, but Aravas and Deshanna were the best offensive option, as well. They could attack large areas and make dents in any opposing force, but not if half - or more - of their power was going to warding.

"The most effective way to sustain wards at length would be to charge artifacts over time," Solas offered. "If you were to start now, preserving energy in a vessel of some type, you could conceivably cast the wards to draw on the vessel for power. If I were going to cast a large-scale barrier ward, that would be my suggested technique." Well, truthfully, it _had_ been his technique, but they didn't need to know that.

Aravas was listening to them, but her mind seemed to be going a million miles a minute. She cleared her throat. "What if… we built the ward into a natural source of energy?"

Solas spun on his heel quickly, staring at her as if she'd said something either completely brilliant or completely stupid. She wasn't sure which. "Say that again," he prompted.

"Well… couldn't we… power a ward with a natural source of energy? Like… a river or waterfall? They renew themselves, and they're often sources of magical energy to draw on. We typically camp near a moving water source anyway, so…" Aravas trailed off, her voice getting softer as she talked, losing her nerve with the intensity Solas was staring at her.

"You're… brilliant," he whispered in awe. She flushed again, but this time in pleasure, enjoying receiving a compliment from him. The warmth seemed to come from her very center and spread into her cheeks.

"She certainly can be," Deshanna agreed. She had always praised Aravas for her ingenuity and creativity, this was nothing new, but it still caused Aravas to grin broadly. "Could it work? Potentially?"

"It could," Solas nodded, "but it will take time to develop the correct spells and casting technique. This isn't a quick project."

"Then the two of you shouldn't delay," Deshanna stated as if that were that. She was used to being Keeper, doling out tasks and rulings as if her word were law. Here, within the Clan, it was. It never occurred to her that Solas wasn't technically under her control. The man didn't seem to mind the order, however. "I'm going to explore potential vessels to charge. Perhaps we can combine the two techniques."

In spite of herself, Aravas was grinning broadly as she stood. "We should get started soon," she told Solas. "And perhaps you can show me some other magic, while we're at it." Solas blinked a bit, wondering when he'd agreed to stay long enough to help create a new type of ward, and when he'd agreed to help _train_ Aravas. He was going to object, put a stop to this now before it got out of-

"Of course," he found himself saying. He reached for his staff and followed her from the tent. He had a feeling that if he didn't get this impulse under control, he would follow Aravas just about anywhere. It made no sense, but there didn't seem to be anything he could do to stop it, either.

Aravas blinked against the afternoon sun, eyes taking a bit to adjust to the sudden brightness. The camp was alive with activity; a small garden had been tilled with quick growing crops, children were playing; there were tents and bedrolls to be mended, leather to be tanned, and meat to be cured. Solas joined her outside just a moment later, and Aravas shot him a grin, before leading him through the camp. "I was thinking maybe you could show me some of the things you learned on your travels if you-"

"Aneth ara, Aravas," Ghimyean interrupted her and she barely bit back a sarcastic remark. She hated being interrupted, and Ghimyean knew that. "Do you have a minute?"

She glanced at Solas and shrugged. "Sure, Ghimyean. How can we help?"

"No… uh… a minute… in private," he stated. His green eyes darted to Solas almost nervously, before looking back to her.

One thin eyebrow raised at Ghimyean, but Solas otherwise didn't react. "I'll… just go… wait over here then," he responded and moved a bit in the distance.

Ghimyean still seemed to be watching Solas closely, his look a bit wary. "Look… Ara… you should-"

"For the millionth time, Ghimyean, my name is Aravas," she interrupted, her hand clenching almost involuntarily on her staff. That was something else he did that always infuriated her. Getting under her skin seemed to come second nature to the man.

He sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. "Aravas, I want you to be careful with him. You shouldn't trust him."

"Deshanna trusts him," Aravas replied with a shrug. "Is there some _reason_ you think I shouldn't? Or is this some sort of… misplaced jealousy?"

He flinched a bit, his eyes sliding from Solas back to Aravas. "No… it's not jealousy. He… talked in his sleep, the first night he was here, and I overheard… things."

"Things?" she asked arching an eyebrow at him.

"Well… it… it was mostly… unintelligible, but he said your name… and uh," his eyes flitted over to Solas again, and he dropped his voice, "I'm pretty sure he said something about sacrifice and maybe… power. I don't know, it was… not quite Elvhen, so I couldn't follow it all."

Aravas couldn't believe what she was hearing. What in the Void was this insanity? So… Solas had talked in his sleep? Likely while she was _with_ him in the Beyond, and now Ghimyean didn't trust him. The absurdity made her want to laugh; the way Ghimyean was acting about it made her want to scream. "So… you overhear another man saying my name in his sleep, and suddenly that means I can't trust him?"

Ghimyean flushed. "I'm just saying… be careful, Ara, that's all."

"That's not my name," she snapped. She lowered her voice and leaned closer him. "I'll tell you what this is, Ghimyean. You are jealous and it's eating you up. You're jealous I'm spending time with him, and you're jealous I'm paying attention to him. You're probably even second-guessing your life's decisions, but you made your choices and you have to live with them."

"Fen'Harel ma ghilana," Ghimyean fired back, his voice raising slightly.

Solas hadn't been trying to listen in on the two young elves, but they weren't exactly being discrete, even though Ghimyean had asked for privacy. They were in the middle of the campsite, and their voices were occasionally carrying on the wind. Solas overheard enough to know they were talking about him, but he wasn't paying enough attention to follow the conversation. Until he heard _that_ phrase with _that_ name.

He closed the gap between them quickly. "Why would you say that?" he asked Ghimyean.

"Why not?" Ghimyean asked bristling at Solas as if he'd been challenged. "You show up here, with no warning, nothing about your story makes sense… and you have a sudden keen interest in our First and our Keeper, and we're just supposed to be _okay_ with it?"

"Ghimyean, stop," Aravas stated darkly, as she stepped between them.

"I have no interest in your First _or_ your Keeper," Solas snapped from behind her. " _They_ have asked _me_ for help. Now, tell me… why did you say that?"

"Because we know nothing about you! You could have been sent here to report back to the Templars… or the apostates," Ghimyean shouted. "Or maybe some shem has decided to keep you as a pet and you're working for _them_."

Aravas could feel Solas' power gathering at that moment, and it was far greater than she expected it to be. He hadn't been angry until Ghimyean had accused him of working for a human, and then, the air got thick and the Veil began to warp around him, power flowing from the Beyond. It nearly made her gasp aloud. Instead, she gathered her reserve.

"STOP IT GHIMYEAN!" she shouted, placing a hand on his chest as he tried to get into Solas' face to continue yelling. Ghimyean stopped advancing, but the anger was clear in his eyes and he was panting in rage. Her other hand rested gently on her staff, but she pressed the fingers of her fist gently against Solas' chest, resting her staff on his shoulder as a steadying presence. He was still gathering power, and she wondered if she needed to cast a barrier to protect the unsuspecting hunter in front of her. The campsite had gone silent, and weapons were close to being drawn. She had to resolve this quickly.

She lowered her voice. "Ghimyean, go to Eirlana. You have a bonding ceremony to plan," she said firmly but quietly.

"But he's danger-"

"You made your choice," she interrupted still speaking low enough that nearly no one would hear her. Her heart was pounding in her chest from the tension in the air and the adrenaline spike caused by the near fight and the still steadily gathering mana behind her. "If this was motivated by jealousy, then… go live with that choice. If it was out of concern then know I've heard you, and I am being _careful_. Either way… go now. You… you have no idea what you're up against here."

"Just because he's a mage-"

"Go to Eirlana, Ghimyean. Now." Her voice held some combination of an air of authority and a bit of danger that finally, finally sunk into Ghimyean, and he threw his hands up in defeat and backed off slowly, his wary green eyes still watching Solas closely. It took a few tense moments before everyone went back to work. The power behind her had stopped gathering, finally, and for that she was grateful. She wasn't quite sure exactly how powerful Solas was, but what he had managed to gather that quickly was both amazing and terrifying.

She looked up at him with a shaky smile. "If you wanted to hear about Fen'Harel… you only had to ask," she said with a half-laugh.

* * *

 

They had passed the edges of the campsite minutes ago and were headed into the open plain. They were still in sight, but far enough away they had some privacy. Aravas was still anxious, the adrenaline rush had faded, but she had too much energy, and she was burning it off by playing with lightning, sparks of energy dancing around her fingertips as if it were a toy. If Solas noticed, he hadn't said a word.

Lightning and fire came easiest to her; she wondered if there were some hidden meaning in that. Pride and Rage had been the first demons to tempt her, and she thought… maybe… just maybe… there was something to that; perhaps they would always be the emotions she had the most difficulty controlling. She exhaled slowly, trying to calm down.

"Do you still deny he loves you?" Solas asked finally, breaking the silence. He was still trying to figure out _why_ Ghimyean had said what he'd said. _Fen'Harel guides you._ It was like an insult, a curse, and although he knew the Dalish had perverted stories of the Evanuris, he'd never gone digging to find out their opinion of him. Maybe he hadn't wanted to know… or maybe the Spirits hadn't wanted to show him.

Aravas stopped short and shook her head once. "It's… it's not like that," she insisted. "Or maybe it was, but it isn't anymore. I don't know."

"What is it like, then, da'len?"

She bristled at his question and for a moment, the lightning she'd been toying with erupted into flame before burning back down again. She stopped toying with the magic, for now, as she'd seemed to burn off the excess energy. "How old are you, anyway?" she snapped, avoiding the question.

"Older than you think," Solas answered. The word _da'len_ had been more to remind himself than to insult her, and now it seemed he needed to stop using it. It was a defense, really, but he wouldn't keep doing it if it bothered her. "Are you going to explain what the story is with Ghimyean or do I have to guess?"

The grass was still damp from a morning shower, but the sun was baking the moisture from it quickly. It was humid, but not unpleasantly so as the spring air still held enough of a chill to make the humidity seem comfortable. He unceremoniously sat, and tugged on Aravas' arm, encouraging her to do the same. This was a good place for them to train if she were able to control her emotions enough to do so.

"We were born just a few weeks apart," Aravas explained as she settled across from him, back to the sun. She shoved her lengthening bangs from her face and resolved that tomorrow morning she would cut her hair. It was getting long enough to be annoying. "Ghimyean is older. His mother," she stopped short averting her eyes from him as if she were struggling to say the words, "his mother was my wet nurse. My mother died in childbirth. If it weren't for her, I probably would have died as well. So we were… practically raised together. No, we _were_ raised together. We were best friends."

"Were?" Solas prompted. He was watching her closely, trying to figure out how she felt about Ghimyean as much as how the man felt about her. He wasn't sure why it was so important to him, but it was. The idea was unnerving; as unnerving as the fact he hadn't yet left the Clan, even though he'd been strong enough to do so.

"Things changed when we discovered I was a mage. Before that, we were inseparable. We were both supposed to be hunters. My mother and father were both hunters - the best - and I inherited their talent. I was good, but so was Ghimyean. He came from a long line of artisans, but… he just… got it. It came as naturally to him as woodworking did to his father and leathercraft to his mother. And he worked hard, too. He was always practicing, always pushing himself. I had to work constantly to stay ahead of him. It was… fun… challenging. We spent hours racing and shooting and tracking. Creators I miss that." Her voice had faded as she talked, and for a moment, Solas thought she might start crying. She didn't. Instead, she simply inhaled a shaky breath and shrugged, her voice steadier as she began to talk again. "But then… my abilities made themselves known, and I was named First, replacing the First who had been serving under Deshanna. He'd apparently fallen in love with a mage in another Clan at the last Arlathvhen and had talked about leaving to join her clan. The only thing that stopped him was his duty here. When he saw the chance to leave, he did… and I took his place."

"And you still think Ghimyean doesn't love you?" Solas asked a hint of amusement in his voice. It seemed obvious to him that the boy was head over heels for Aravas and only backed off because he thought she was out of his league. A hunter he had a chance with, but the future Keeper of their Clan?

"Someone who loves you doesn't go out of their way to annoy you the way he does me. They don't avoid you or challenge you every chance they get, and they certainly don't pick fights that shouldn't even be fights in the middle of the blighted campsite where everyone can hear!" she exclaimed. "But most of all, they don't choose to marry another woman!"

Solas raised an eyebrow. "Don't they?"

"No!" she practically shouted. It took everything Solas had not to laugh at her. It was times like this her age and inexperience showed through. It was times like this he found it easier to control his impulses. She was so, so young. "Enough about Ghimyean. We need to talk about you. You nearly broke your promise to me," she charged.

He started a bit, his eyes meeting hers. She had thrown him off-guard, and he wasn't sure what to say. "I… I… didn't…"

"You did," she countered. "I felt the power you were gathering, Solas. You would have killed him before he even landed his first punch, and you _promised_. You promised not to hurt me or anyone else in Clan Lavellan. Ghimyean is part of Clan Lavellan."

His jaw clenched, and he wanted to argue but he couldn't. He would have killed the boy if he'd actually put his hands on him. He wouldn't have hesitated, and really it was over something stupid, a misunderstanding, mostly on Ghimyean's part. Although, the way he presumed to tell Aravas what to do was infuriating, and the way he'd puffed up like a dragon ready to do battle was more so. "It won't happen again, I assure you," he said after a moment.

"Have you really never heard that before? 'Fen'Harel ma ghilana'? It's so common a phrase… I thought all elves would know it," she asked.

Solas' breath caught, unbidden. The way she'd said _Fen'Harel_ was so different from Ghimyean. It was almost reverent, much sweeter than hearing her say his actual name, and… _no. Stop that. You are not some lovesick child._ "The Dread Wolf guides you," he translated. "But what does it _mean_?"

Aravas laughed a bit as if he were teasing her, but when she realized he wasn't, her eyes opened wide. "Are you really not familiar with Fen'Harel?" she asked.

This. Again. How often was he going to hear about things he'd _lived_ through that were interpreted so poorly? How often was someone going to tell him about _himself_? "Perhaps not in the way you are," he settled.

She nodded and licked her lips before beginning. "Fen'Harel is regarded as the trickster God. He's neither evil nor good, really, but he's not entirely wholesome either. He was both regarded as one of the Forgotten Ones and as one of the Creators, trusted by both clans. His most infamous act was locking both away after he convinced them he would broker peace and end their war. It's said, after accomplishing the act he disappeared to the edge of the world and laughed and laughed and laughed. They often blame his Great Betrayal for the fall of Arlathan - because the Gods are locked away they couldn't prevent the fall. But we also use statues of him for protection against evil spirits and give him offerings as appeasements. The Keeper's primary duties - beyond piecing together our history and leading the clan - is to protect them from Fen'Harel."

Solas couldn't believe what he was hearing. He also couldn't believe that Aravas, technically, had done that very thing. Protected her Clan from him within moments of their meeting. It was ironic. "So you use his name as a _curse_?"

"A curse, a warning, an expression of dismay… so much more. Ghimyean, in particular, has always found it hilarious to threaten me with the Dread Wolf," she grumbled.

He was trying to wrap his mind around these revelations and trying to determine what to _do_ about them exactly. The very people he'd been trying to save were _afraid_ of him. And while it was humiliating, was it wrong? Wasn't he, in many ways, responsible for the shape of the world today? "How… how do you feel about Fen'Harel?" Well, that hadn't been what he'd meant to ask, exactly, but there it was.

Aravas took a quick look around to make sure no one was nearby. "Well… I'm supposed to protect the clan from him… but I'm not sure… why. There are no stories of him directly betraying any Elvhen that asked for his help or guidance. The worst thing he did was lock away our Gods, and… _if_ the stories are true, they can't be relied upon, because we lost so much of our history."

" _If_?" Solas asked, the mere suggestion that she didn't think they were true shocked him. He'd thought she was devoted to this… religion they'd cooked up.

She sighed softly. "Creators, I've never said this aloud, and it sounds blasphemous." She shoved a hand through her hair, her eyes darting back to the campsite before landing on his face. "Some events… some people… become _more_ than reality. We've seen it in action, even in my lifetime. The Hero of Fereldan… the Champion of Kirkwall… they were just people. The Hero was a minor noble who became Grey Warden and married a king; the Champion of Kirkwall was an apostate who fled the Blight and attempted to keep the peace between the Templars and the mages, before helping to free the mages. But history already remembers them as larger than life figures who accomplished impossible deeds. What will history say about them in a hundred years or a thousand? Will they have held divine providence? Have been sent by the Maker? Or maybe even Fen'Harel? Andraste - we know she was real, she helped free my people from slavery. But was she really the Bride of the Maker? Or was that distinction provided by a lyrium addled mind or something history has added to allow people to gain power in her name?"

"I'm not sure I'm following," Solas admitted. He was, _truly_ , following her thoughts. She seemed to have an innate instinct that the legends of the Evanuris her people passed on weren't the whole truth, and although she saw the importance in preserving them, she didn't seem to be devoted to them. Not blindly.

"My point, Solas, is that… maybe our Gods weren't Gods. Maybe they were just people. Ancient Kings and Queens. Maybe Fen'Harel didn't lock them away… or maybe he did. Maybe he needed to. I mean, what could _possibly_ go wrong with nearly immortal beings amassing gigantic quantities of money and power and being in control of large parts of society?" she asked her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"All we have left are handfuls of stories, some carvings on tablets, and massively distorted history written down by our _owners_ when we were _slaves_. We're doing our best to piece it together, but it's been thousands of years at this point and most of what we have was passed on by word of mouth," she added. She pushed forward with her explanation.

"When I was training to be a hunter, we used to play this game. We would start with a piece of information and pass it around, each of us whispering to the next something we saw, building on the previous observation. Let's say you started by saying, 'I see green grass.' I would whisper that to the next person and add my own. 'I see green grass and blue sky.' By the time the story got around, each of us embellishing it, we'd forgotten half of what the message was or completely botched it. It was supposed to teach us the importance of using simple and concise hand signals while hunting to communicate. It did. None of us wanted to go after a rabbit only to find a wyvern instead. But it also taught me to be skeptical of ancient stories. There is likely a kernel of truth still in them, but what and where it is, I'm not sure."

"A wise position," Solas said after consideration. Every time he thought he'd figured her out, she surprised him, again. "But I'm still not sure what that means for how you feel about Fen'Harel." He was teasing a bit, but he was also curious. If he told her the truth, would she hate him instantly? Would she banish him from her camp? Would she even believe him?

"Void take you, Solas," she grumbled. "I think… if Fen'Harel _was_ real, and not just some trumped up parable about being wary of strangers and shems, then he couldn't possibly have been all bad - assuming everything we attribute to him happened. If he were, we wouldn't ask him for protection against greater evils. And if the man chose to lock away the other Gods, he must have had a reason. If he were simply power hungry, then you would have thought he'd have seized control of Arlathan by himself and destroyed the Tevinter Empire with some clever tricks rather than allowing Arlathan to fall - even if he hated the Elvhen. You can certainly hate someone and _rule_ them. Instead… he too, disappeared, whether driven by guilt or something else - loneliness, maybe."

Solas inhaled. Her logical position gave him hope, probably far more than it should. Perhaps he could find some Agents among the Dalish, and receive their aid in undoing his foolish acts. It also made him wonder how he'd found _her,_ of all people, first. He'd never taken much stock in Fate, but perhaps it was a sign.

"Well, now that that's resolved," Solas stated as he stood and offered her a hand up. "We should begin our training, I think."


	4. Under Pressure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Is it Ghimyean?" he asked suddenly._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _Aravas' brow furrowed as she shook her head. "No. What?" She sighed softly. "Okay… sometimes. Sometimes it's Ghimyean. But today it's just been how tired I am, how much I hurt, how much I want to please…" She let the statement trail off and resolutely turned her gaze back to the bun she was pulling apart to eat. "The point is… it hasn't been Ghimyean much."_
> 
>  
> 
> _"How much you want to please… me?" he finished the statement for her, and she avoided his gaze. Her bun was suddenly the most fascinating thing in the plains, even more fascinating than the growing rain clouds looming in the distance. "Aravas, you aren't doing this for me. You're doing this for yourself, for your Clan."_
> 
>  
> 
> _"That doesn't make it better," she grumbled reaching for a bite of the rabbit. The meat was warm and fresh and invigorating. It seemed to be restoring her from the inside out, giving her strength she desperately needed._

It _felt_ as if they'd been at it for weeks, but it had only been a couple of days. Solas was an unforgiving trainer, and he had pushed her harder than even her father had. Muscles she didn't know she had ached from unfamiliar casting patterns, blisters had formed on her hands from the way her staff moved, her head was pounding with newfound reserves of power, ears drummed with magically induced changes of pressure. She wished she could find the energy at the end of the day to heat a section of the river and soak in hot water, but she could barely stand much less cast.

They'd made a lot of progress.

He'd corrected a mistake she was making in clearing her staff of residual energies between spells, a slight adjustment in the positioning of her staff and it was now being cleared completely, allowing her spells to charge faster and be cast with more power. He'd helped her balance her barrier which always leaned heavily to her dominant side; the energy was now evenly distributed, steady, and unwavering. He'd shown her how to warp the Veil and twist the essence of the Beyond to summon rocks, create vortices he called rifts, and to exert a downward force to flatten targets. She seemed to have a natural aptitude for it.

But he kept pushing her to learn to control ice, and it didn't come easily to her. She couldn't seem to concentrate on it, to exert her will to make things colder, and that stupid Fade Step was nearly impossible. He insisted that mastering the nature of Winter would be key to her success in warding, but she couldn't see how. And she was frustrated.

They'd started with her attempting to target living creatures, rabbits and squirrels, but that was a full-on failure. She couldn't seem to cool them quickly enough to fight against their natural body heat. They'd borrowed a target from her father's range, and she could only seem to freeze a portion of it which melted in the heat of the spring sun nearly quicker than she could cast. So now, she was targeting a mug of water. She really couldn't get simpler than this, but she still couldn't seem to freeze the entire mug, and if she did it barely lasted long enough for her to register it was complete.

"Again," Solas called. She took a deep breath and reset her position, thinking her way through the movements. Her body ached in pain, but the ice formed, only to break apart as soon as she felt her staff brush against a blister. "Again," he said without hesitation. He was barely letting her think between castings. She was hungry. She was tired. She pushed through the movements and winced. This time there was no ice. "Again."

Aravas sighed heavily, her head spinning. She swung her staff part of the way through the casting movements before she nearly dropped it as the offending blister erupted in pain and blood and clear runny fluid. "ARGH!" she shouted in frustration, breaking the casting motions to plant her staff in front of her and lean against it. Her head spun again, and she felt like she might faint, her stomach growling loudly.

"Again," Solas prompted.

"I can't," she argued.

"You must," he insisted. He wasn't trying to be mean. He knew Aravas was exhausted, was probably close to fainting. Her hands were raw, her muscles ached, her lips were parched. He was pushing her hard- maybe too hard- but she hadn't yet stopped _thinking_.

"I can't," she nearly sobbed. She wavered on her feet and dropped her staff to the ground, throwing her hands out to catch herself as her legs gave out. "I need a break. Lunch. Water."

He really couldn't argue with the demands of her body and he moved to the packs they had brought with them to fetch her water skin. "Drink." He handed it to her and started the fire, cooking up the portion of rabbit they'd been given by her father in silence. As it cooked, he sat next to her and reached for her blistered hand. The spell he cast was simple, just enough to ease the pain, but not enough to heal the blister. Unfortunately, healing the skin would only make things worse in the long run. She'd never develop the callouses needed to protect her skin if she healed it constantly.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked after a few moments.

"Now? Nothing," she said. She flexed her hand a bit as if testing for the pain, and he became suddenly aware he was still holding it, even though he'd finish his casting already. He let it go abruptly, hoping she hadn't noticed his lingering touch.

She had.

"Why can't you think of nothing when you're casting?" he asked. "It's why you're failing. To master the element of winter - to earn control over ice - you must awaken your inner stillness, embrace calm and tranquility."

"Do I look like a calm and tranquil person to you?" she snapped.

In spite of himself, he laughed. He pulled their packs closer and unwrapped the apricots the Clan had managed to trade for and handed her one while they waited on the rabbit. "You used to be," he challenged. He took a bite of his apricot, watching her closely as she chewed.

"Things change," she said with a shrug. "And anyway, how would you know what I used to be like?"

Solas finished his apricot and tossed the pit aside, moving to tend to the rabbit which was nearly done. "You were a hunter, once. Being a hunter requires stillness, patience, and clear thoughts." He shot her a knowing look and she inwardly groaned.

After their… _disagreement_ … in the middle of the campsite, Solas' bedroll had been moved from Ghimyean's tent. She'd offered to share her own, but Deshanna had balked (' _Think of the appearances, da'len!_ ') and much to her horror and chagrin, Solas had moved in with… her _father_. She had no idea what the two men talked about given that in most circumstances, neither of them were moved to be particularly chatty, but she had a sneaking suspicion much of it revolved around _her_ if the knowing looks she caught them giving her were any indication.

"I'm not a hunter, anymore. Things. Change," she challenged, unable to stop herself from flushing at the thought of what her father may have told Solas. She finished her apricot and tossed it away, much less gracefully than she would have accomplished if she were throwing with her right hand.

Solas removed the rabbit from the fire, making quick work of separating the meat from the bone for both of them. He frowned a bit. "Give me your hand," he said crossing to her. She looked up at him with a question in her eyes. "Yes, healing a blister isn't the smartest idea, but I doubt you want to eat your entire meal only one handed and this rabbit is fatty. Do you want hot rabbit fat to drip into an open wound?" Without a further complaint she held her hand out to him and he finished the healing.

In moments, they were eating heartily of rabbit and bread and a bit of cheese they'd traded for. It was heaven. Aravas hadn't quite realized how hungry she was.

"Is it Ghimyean?" he asked suddenly.

Aravas' brow furrowed as she shook her head. "No. What?" She sighed softly. "Okay… sometimes. Sometimes it's Ghimyean. But today it's just been how tired I am, how much I hurt, how much I want to please…" She let the statement trail off and resolutely turned her gaze back to the bun she was pulling apart to eat. "The point is… it hasn't been Ghimyean much."

"How much you want to please… me?" he finished the statement for her, and she avoided his gaze. Her bun was suddenly the most fascinating thing in the plains, even more fascinating than the growing rain clouds looming in the distance. "Aravas, you aren't doing this for _me_. You're doing this for yourself, for your Clan."

"That doesn't make it better," she grumbled reaching for a bite of the rabbit. The meat was warm and fresh and invigorating. It seemed to be restoring her from the inside out, giving her strength she desperately needed.

"Is that what's changed? Your responsibilities?" he asked.

"No. Yes. I don't know," she sighed in frustration, pausing to take a drink of water. "Being a hunter is important. Without you, the Clan may starve. But it isn't… it's nothing like this. Being the Keeper… being the First… it's worrying about attacks from Templars and apostates and slavers and humans looking for a scapegoat. It's guarding our history, our knowledge, our religion. It's choosing the right people for the right jobs, settling disputes, knowing who to trust. It's choosing who to trade what with; knowing who might provide poisoned flour and sugar stores or who might lie about the origins of goods to fetch a higher price. It's knowing how much our work is worth. It's knowing when to demand higher prices or yield against shemlen who constantly undervalue us. It's predicting illness, famine, natural disasters. It's making deals and offering aid in exchange for aid ourselves. Every aspect of the Clan's life falls on your shoulders."

"And you're thinking about all of that?" He slid the small hunk of cheese he had to her. She had already finished eating and he was barely through half of his meal. Aravas was expending far more energy than he'd expected. She smiled and accepted the food without comment.

"Not all of the time, obviously, but I find it difficult to relax. I'm always thinking about decisions Deshanna has made or potential problems we may encounter. I feel like I'm trying to live in the past, present, and future all at once, and I can't quite focus on the here and now. I second guess even simple things - like… you and Ghimyean. Deshanna and I agreed if there was any sign of trouble, we would ask you to leave. Ghimyean's distrust of you is trouble. Our choice to keep you here, even though he expressed concern, has implications. We have, in effect, taken away Ghimyean's voice in matters concerning the Clan; his agency has been revoked. That could prevent him from speaking out in the future. Or worse, could undermine his authority. He's not a hahren, but he is on track to be a leader in our Clan, and our dismissal of his concerns could slow that progress," she sighed heavily.

"If my staying is a concern-"

"No!" she interrupted a bit more forcefully than she'd intended. The thought of Solas leaving had caused a rise of panic in her she couldn't explain. She tried to shove the thought away. "It's not that at all. It's just… as a hunter, your job is simple. Track, hunt, kill, process meat. As a Keeper, there's so much more. It's… a lot of pressure."

Solas hummed in thought, watching Aravas finish the cheese. "Have you ever tried meditation?" he asked.

"Hah!" she laughed. "'I can't stop thinking,' I say. 'Have you tried not thinking?' you ask."

The laugh that escaped him was pleasant and unexpected. He shrugged half-heartedly. "We'll try that tomorrow before we begin training. I can lead you through it. It might help." He stood, doused the flames of the fire, and held out a hand to her to help her up. "For now, let's see if food and rest made a difference." She reached for her staff and took Solas' hand standing slowly. The moment their hands met a spark seemed to jolt through them, hearts beating faster. They both resolutely ignored it. Her hand felt better, obviously, and some of the fatigue had left her body; however, her muscles were still aching, shoulders and back and arms protesting movement. She rolled her shoulders and her upper back cracked. "Have you tried heating your muscles from the inside," Solas half-suggested, half-asked.

She raised an eyebrow. "No. I didn't even know that was something that could be done."

"Many mages who are drawn to the element of fire naturally warm themselves easily. I'm surprised you've never done it before."

"Well, to be fair, before you showed up, I never had problems with muscle aches and pains," she stated. She was smirking a bit at him, her silver eyes sparkling with that mischievous air he had already come to enjoy. "Training to be a hunter had me well prepared… until you."

The man sighed a bit and shook his head, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I'll show you how to do that tomorrow, after meditating. Until then," he let the statement trail off as he rubbed his hands together. He focused on his hands, heating the air around them. He moved to Aravas, his hands hovering over her as he worked.

It was all she could do to suppress a moan as the heat emanating from Solas' hands hovering over her caused the knots in her staff arm to begin unwinding slowly. She closed her eyes, focusing on the way the ache began to dull, the way the tension seemed to recede without protest. He worked quickly, moving up her arm, to her shoulders, her upper back, and then down the other arm. She exhaled slowly as Solas stepped away. "Try casting now," he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

She took another deep breath and fell into her fighting pose; she focused on her power, reaching out to the mug, and began the swing of her staff. She was halfway through the positions when she panicked, not remembering what came next. It drew her focus and she inwardly sighed. The mug, however, froze solid and the freeze lasted for a few more seconds than it had been.

"Better," Solas said with a nod. "You were doing well but became distracted. What was it this time?"

"The motions of this spell are so unnatural," she grumbled. "I can't remember what to do. I'm actually thinking my way through it."

"Hmm… you can overcome that in the Beyond tonight through practice," he suggested. Aravas wasn't sure why she hadn't thought of practicing in the Beyond. She couldn't cast without potentially attracting a demon, of course, but the memory of the physical motions would stay with her. She was almost certain that's why she'd been so good at archery so quickly - she spent much of her dreams practicing. "Until then, I have an idea." Solas moved behind her, stepping so close she could feel his breath on her neck. Aravas cleared her throat nervously. "You just focus on the act of casting. I'll handle the motions."

Aravas forgot to breathe as Solas moved so close to her, she could feel his body heat, his chest barely brushing against her back. One hand slid down her arm, his hand wrapping around the hand on her staff; his other hand moved to her stomach, splaying firmly against it. She licked her lips, trying not to dwell on the feeling of him pressing against her, but it was difficult. "Solas," she whispered softly, "I don't think this will help me clear my mind."

In retrospect, Solas realized this was a very bad idea. He had thought if he helped her with the motions, she could concentrate on the actual act of casting, but once he got close, he could feel the way her breath hitched, smell the soft sweet scent of her, feel the heat from her body. Her stomach was warm against his hand, soft against his touch, but firm musculature from years of training lurking beneath the inviting softness. He felt her shift slightly and lean back against him.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to concentrate. "Just try to focus," he said softly. His voice had gotten deeper, his own desire sounding obvious to himself. He hoped she didn't notice.

She did.

She twisted slightly to look at him, all thoughts of magic and training far from her mind. She slowly leaned forward to press her lips to his. The electricity which surged between them was more intense than any she'd felt before and the heat… it was overwhelming.

The sharp inhale between them happened in unison, neither one of them sure who made the sound. Aravas let go of the staff, and Solas' hand wrapped resolutely around it, making sure it didn't hit the ground; she spun in his arms, leaning further into the kiss, the hand in the small of her back settled more firmly, anchoring her against him. She parted her lips slightly, inviting him to do the same. He complied seconds later, and she took advantage of the opening, her tongue entering his mouth to explore.

The sound that escaped Solas was wholly undignified, full of need and want he'd been desperately trying to ignore, a mix between a growl and a moan. Aravas seemed to revel in it, her hands moving to cup his face. Her kiss became more demanding, nipping, biting, claiming. Solas was emboldened by it meeting her demand with his own, tongues dueling for dominance, neither of them willing to give an inch.

She broke the kiss with a whimper, her eyes finally opened to meet his; her normally bright silver eyes had darkened to a storm gray, pupils wide with pure desire. She was nearly vibrating with it, the intensity of it causing her power to twist and weave around them. Solas wanted to plunge head first, to give in to the desire which threatened to consume him.

Instead, he steeled himself, pushed his desire down deep, and exhaled slowly. "Now that your mind is cleared, try casting again."

She blinked up at him, blush suffusing her pale skin. She was suddenly overcome with concern that she'd misread his signals and had overstepped her bounds. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"For?" His forehead furrowed with confusion as he regarded her closely, the apology catching him off guard.

"The kiss. It was inappropriate," she explained softly. Her hands had landed on his chest as their kiss broke, and she self-consciously pulled them back, not wanting to cause him any awkwardness.

"No," he stated simply. The hand on her back moved and he stroked her cheek gently. "But as you made me aware, you have responsibilities to your Clan, and I have them to you."

Her hands moved back to his chest and she leaned against him. "So, it was okay? That I kissed you."

"More than okay… except now I have to figure out how to look your father in the eyes knowing exactly how sweet your lips feel against mine," Solas whispered.

Aravas was unable to keep a smirk from her face as she turned away from him, her hand wrapping back around her staff in determination. "Why don't you focus on solving that problem while I practice freezing the hell out of this mug?"


	5. On Bonding and Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aravas is asked a difficult question and gives a difficult answer. Later, she tries to explain to Solas why the Dalish approach to love and sex is so... troublesome.
> 
> * * *
> 
> _Solas knew, at this moment, what he_ should _do. What he should do was end this entanglement. He should tell her that while it had been fun, it wasn't appropriate or prudent. He should tell her he was flattered, but they couldn't pursue anything because he needed to leave soon. He should re-focus himself to his task of lowering the Veil, help Aravas learn about warding, and leave as quickly as possible. He should pursue his task with dedication and not let her distract him. If they were both lucky enough to survive the Veil coming down and the return of the Evanuris, then… maybe…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was like pulling teeth. I know it took a while for me to write and post compared to other updates, and I apologize for that. My muse kept providing inspiration for later scenes and even later stories for the series. I think there are maybe... 2 or 3 more chapters in this particular installment of the series (although plans could change)... and then on to more... familiar territory.

Aravas stood, unfolding her legs and standing tall, arms moving over her head and standing on her tip toes as she leaned back to lightly stretch. Several joints popped and the subtle muscle aches which had become her almost constant companions released. The warming technique Solas had shown her helped but sleeping on the ground always seemed to undo the work of elfroot potions and heat. As she lowered herself back down to the flats of her feet, her hand crept to her neck, working out the kinks there and then her own shoulders slowly. Meditation also helped, as loathe as she was to admit it, and it helped with her casting, too. Damn Solas for being right.

It had been five days since she'd first kissed him; four since he'd first talked her through meditation and shown her how to warm her muscles on her own. She'd hinted - rather aggressively - that she'd rather just have a massage from him, even hinted she'd exchange _favors_ for one. He'd simply raised an eyebrow at her and not taken her up on the offer. It had been a bit humiliating.

But she'd kept peppering him with kisses and stray touches of affection: throwing her arms around him enthusiastically when she first successfully completed a Fade Step, kissing him good morning when they first met and good evening when they parted, lacing her fingers with his as they relaxed after lunch, even playfully smacking his ass the one time he'd made a suggestive comment to her. That last one had earned her a yelp of surprise, a faint blush, and a comment about how she made him feel much younger than he actually was. For all that, Solas had never once made the first move, though he swore he was interested; she supposed he _was_ interested, because he never once pushed her away, either. It was confusing, frustrating, and oddly exhilarating.

She'd never before had a lover whom she could take her time with, spread out her affection, spend time letting the need and desire build until they couldn't stand it anymore. She'd never been able to take comfort in the stray touches, never been able to pepper her affections throughout the day, never before played the game of trying to catch him watching her with desire in his eyes when she least expected it. Regardless of his lack of action, that last one happened quite a bit when she'd asked a particularly insightful question or performed some bit of advanced magic or even when she made some sort of observation about Elvhen history. His blue-gray eyes would darken slightly and become half-lidded, pupils widening slightly to call attention to the violet accents, as he licked his lips slowly. His look would become almost predatory, and she could almost see him thinking through exactly what to do to her if he ever made a move. Aravas had no doubt it would be… glorious. Just thinking about that look caused a shiver down her spine.

As she stepped from her tent, the sun was just beginning to peek over the eastern horizon. She glanced toward the edge of the campsite where Solas was normally waiting for her. He wasn't there yet. She supposed that meant she had time for tea and breakfast.

"Aneth ara, Aravas."

The softness of the voice behind her did not prevent her from jumping, the teal glow of her barrier automatically forming as she was startled, and her heart leaped to her chest. It took a moment for the heavily accented voice to sink home, and she spun to face the woman, a slight pink flush on her cheeks. "Creators, Eirlana. You startled me."

"Ir abelas," she said softly. "I have a favor to ask of you, but you have been spending from sun up to sun down with Solas, so I haven't had a chance."

Her eyes swept over the other woman. She was smaller than her - a good half a foot shorter, with dark, long hair, brown eyes slightly too large for her face and a wide nose. The simple version of Sylaise's vallaslin crossed over her left eye in a deep maroon hue, invoking thoughts of barely healed scars and drawing attention to the fact her eyes were too large; she'd have done better going for a subtle gray. Her Rivaini accent was the only thing she had going for her - if you were into that sort of thing.

"A favor?" Aravas asked and she frowned a bit. "If you need something, you could have asked Deshanna. I'm not sure-"

"This isn't Clan business," she said softly. She awkwardly rubbed her arm and refused to meet Aravas' eyes. It was a bad habit left over from before she'd joined the Clan. Aravas wasn't sure what her full story was - she'd never asked - but the girl had been adopted into the Clan when she'd stowed away in a crate of goods they'd bought in the port city of Bastion when she was only 10. She'd apparently escaped _something_ terrible in Rivain, stowed away on a merchant ship, stolen bits of food as she could, and scraped by undetected until they'd landed in port. "It is a personal favor, for me… and Ghimyean."

Aravas inhaled and exhaled slowly, surprised that she had no reaction to that statement other than a slight twinge of regret and a temporary flash of pain. It would always hurt, some part of her would always love him, but her acceptance of his choice was making it easier… slowly. "How can I help?"

Eirlana bit at her bottom lip timidly, and Aravas had to fight the urge to take the woman by the shoulders and shake her. Ghimyean had never before found this sort of timidity or tameness the least bit appealing, even in friends, and she couldn't help but wonder what in the Void he was thinking _bonding_ himself to her. Her eyes met Aravas' finally and she seemed to suddenly remember who she was speaking to because she squared her shoulders and stopped fidgeting. "Would you be my maid of honor for the ceremony? Ghimyean would like to have you be a part of it - you are his best friend - but he is too… proud… or intimidated… or ashamed… something… to ask. Please consider it… your refusal would hurt him, immensely."

The mage inhaled sharply, her equilibrium thrown off by the question as it was the last thing she was expecting. Honestly, she'd been expecting to be asked _not_ to attend, to keep Solas busy and uninvolved in what would be a three-day event. She wasn't sure she wanted to. To stand next to Eirlana while Ghimyean pledged himself to her, would likely be too large of a burden to bear. "Are you sure he would want me there?" It was her turn to look away, to avoid Eirlana's gaze, and to speak so softly the other elf might not hear her.

"There's nothing which would give him greater pleasure," Eirlana replied without hesitation. Aravas raised an eyebrow. Surely there was _something_ … like spending his wedding night with Eirlana… that would bring him greater pleasure. That was an… odd choice of words.

"I don't even own a dress," Aravas supplied as her answer.

That caused Eirlana to smile and she nodded. "It's okay, Ghimyean's mother is making mine. I'm sure she can make one for you, as well." Aravas nodded once in agreement. "Thank you."

"It's not a problem, Eirlana."

* * *

 

Solas sat perched atop a rock formation in the clearing where he had first met Aravas. It wasn't so much a clearing as it was a break in the tree line, natural berth given by the surrounding plants to the riverbed. He had given up waiting on her at the campsite and come here thinking maybe she had decided to meet him here instead, but it had been a while and she still hadn't arrived. The sun had crept above the horizon, at least another hour more had passed, and there was still no sign of her. He was starting to worry; it was unlike Aravas to keep him waiting.

He had just resolved to return to the campsite when he heard the unmistakable bird call signaling her arrival. Without hesitation, he signaled back with a quick whistle of his own. With outside conflicts escalating, the Clan had returned to using hand signals and bird calls to announce their arrival and departure and to communicate in the woods. Last week a couple of strangers wielding staves had come close to their campsite. The apostates had thought better than to approach, but the Clan was on high alert, now. Solas couldn't blame them. Although the mages hadn't been an issue, they could be followed by Templars or Seekers or there could be apostates with ill intentions coming soon after them.

Shortly after his call, Aravas entered the clearing and Solas couldn't help but let his eyes wander over her form. Although he hadn't pursued more intimacy with her, he was certainly tempted. He found himself warring internally over the foolish indulgence and selfishness of his desire and arguing the merits of it, so he let her take the lead. "I thought you may have stood me up," he teased.

She didn't smile. Her vallaslin was knit with the wrinkles of her forehead, a sign something was bothering her. The deep-seated worry did lighten some as she crossed to him, but not enough to fully relax her face. He slid from the rock and landed swiftly on his feet as she threw her arms around him and buried her head in his neck. She inhaled sharply, seeming to breathe in his scent, and he wrapped his arms around her. "Is everything alright?" he asked.

She exhaled softly and nodded, pressing a gentle kiss to his neck, his cheek, and then his lips. Solas tried to hide the shudder of desire that coursed through his body, swallowing thickly and forcing himself to concentrate on her words. "It's fine. I just… needed to clear my mind, again."

He raised an eyebrow at her as she pulled back from their embrace and gazed up at him slightly. She was tall for a female elf, shy his height by only an inch or two, and Solas found he liked that; it made him feel like they were peers when age and experience shouted otherwise. She met his eyes now and sighed softly. "What's that look for?"

"Your vallaslin is wrinkled," he said, moving his hand from her back to run his thumb over the wrinkle he was talking about. "That only happens when you think too much. I've never seen you so… pensive."

She licked her lips and leaned back into him, her arms slipping around his waist and curling up his back to hold him close. She pressed her cheek into his chest. "I'm going to be the maid of honor in my best friend's wedding," she whispered, "which sounds lovely and normal, but, of course, in my case, it isn't."

"Maid of honor?"

"Creators, do you not have marriages _at all_ in the village you're from?" she asked with a laugh, the sound a mere huff of air across his chest. She didn't wait for an answer as it really wasn't necessary. Solas wasn't sure how much of his explanation she still believed (if any), but it didn't seem to matter; she accepted his _quirks_ as easily as she had accepted him. "It means I'll be standing there watching… listening… to my best friend… the man I-" her statement broke off and she let out a shuddering breath before pushing through, "the man I love pledging his life to another woman who I'll be standing next to as if I'm blessing the union."

"And… why are you doing that?" Solas asked, genuinely curious why Aravas was forcing herself to do something which was clearly difficult for her. He tried not to focus on the fact Aravas admitted she loved Ghimyean, tried not to think about what that meant for him, or their attraction to one another, tried not to dwell on the panic that was rising up at realizing that this likely meant nothing to her. That reaction was unexpected as he wasn't sure what it meant to him.

"Because Eirlana came to me and asked me to. She said Ghimyean wanted me to be a part of the bonding ceremony, and I couldn't say no," she explained. "I thought I could do it when I agreed, but… I don't think I'm strong enough."

Solas had to strain to hear her final words as they were barely a whisper as she forced them out. It hurt him to see her struggling with this, and if she hadn't admonished him for the last disagreement he'd had with the boy, he may have confronted Ghimyean about this _game_ he seemed intent on playing with her. A fierce protective urge arose in him, and it took him a few long seconds to push it down.

"Well, that is certainly not true," he said, barely catching himself from letting the word 'vhenan' slip from him. It caught him off-guard that he’d almost said it so casually on the heels of her confession of love for Ghimyean, and he wasn't sure what to make of it. His feelings were foolish, practically unfounded, and certainly selfish. Aravas was far too young for him… and had just admitted she was in love with another man.

"You are strong enough to accomplish anything you want. You have an impressive amount of willpower supplemented by enough stubborn tenacity to move a mountain with your bare hands. You suffered through my harsh training when lesser people would have given up and pushed hard enough to begin to conquer what would have been one of your greatest magical weaknesses. When you are in the Beyond, your will shines so brightly most demons are afraid to approach you; you could reshape the Beyond to whatever you desired and build Empires. Your strength is inspiring and impressive… especially in one so young."

She smiled up at him a lovely flush darkening her pale skin. "No one has ever made my flaws sound so appealing."

"Flaws?"

"Mmm… stubborn, willful, young and inexperienced. You're missing - let's see - prideful, hot-headed, and impulsive," Aravas replied, her eyes sparkling.

Something clicked then, and Solas realized she could have easily been describing himself in his younger years. Maybe _that_ was why he found her so appealing, they were so similar; he felt as if he understood everything about her, and she understood everything about him, even if she didn't know the truth of who he was. He swallowed a bit, moving his hand to cup her face and letting his thumb stroke her cheek gently. _You old fool. You are in way too deep._ "But you are also thoughtful, kind, and compassionate.  You're intelligent, shrewd, and logical. You try to curb your instinct to lash out and usually succeed."

"I like how I look through your eyes," she whispered softly. His hand moved slightly, fingers just barely brushing against the shaved sides of her dark auburn hair; she leaned into the touch like a kitten accepting a gentle pet. "Solas, in the interest of full disclosure," she paused to lick her lips before continuing, "when Ghimyean first told me he was bonding with Eirlana, I was devastated, and when Eirlana first asked me to be her maid of honor, I was hurt, but it was nothing compared to the initial shock of realizing he’d chosen someone else. While I question if I will be strong enough to make it through the ceremony, I… I don't wonder any longer if I'll ever get over not being with him. I am already getting over it."

"I used to wake up in the morning thinking of him, hoping to see him, wishing he would look me in the eye, or present me with a token of his affection. Now, I wake up in the morning thinking of things you have taught me or the conversations we’ve had. I look forward to kissing you good morning. I wonder what we'll discover that day, and if I can make you smile. We barely know one another, and I'm not foolish enough to declare I love you, but I want you to know you are important to me. Your presence has become a balm to my soul in a difficult time, and I'm not sure I would be as at ease with this without you here."

Solas knew, at this moment, what he should do. What he _should_ do was end this entanglement. He should tell her that while it had been fun, it wasn't appropriate or prudent. He should tell her he was flattered, but they couldn't pursue anything because he needed to leave soon. He should re-focus himself to his task of lowering the Veil, help Aravas learn about warding, and leave as quickly as possible. He should pursue his task with dedication and not let her distract him. If they were both lucky enough to survive the Veil coming down and the return of the Evanuris, then… maybe…

But what he did was slide his hand to the back of her head, pull her to him, and kiss her deeply. She let out a surprised mewl and seemed to melt into him. His other hand slid to her ass and pulled her against him as his tongue parted her lips. Aravas rewarded him with a soft moan and a push of her own tongue moving sensuously against his, teasing his lips, a mere hint at things she could do with her tongue to other parts of his body. It briefly occurred to him this was the first time he'd initiated their affection, but the thought was fleeting, as Aravas' hands began to roam his body, over the planes of his chest and shoulders. He was unwilling to let go of her rear, so the hand idly toying with the hair at the back of her head slid down her back, up her smooth side, and came to rest on her breast. He gathered it in his hand, squeezing it gently.

Aravas moaned deeply, her breath ragged and hot against his lips, and Solas couldn't help but smirk a bit at the sound. His thumb caressed her nipple through her tunic and her hips snapped against his in response. He could feel the fire of his desire pooling in his belly, the delicious tension as his blood flowed south and his cock jumped in response. If Aravas' reaction was any indication, she could feel it, too, as her hips began to grind against him slowly, offering him glorious friction that was both a tease and a relief. His eyes slid closed as she continued the movement, a low moan escaping him as he threw his head back in ecstasy.

She took the opening to gain the upper hand, her lips pressing insistently to the pulse point on his neck, nipping and sucking and stroking it with her tongue. Solas felt as if he was floating, the pleasure causing his heart to beat faster and his head to spin slightly. He was somehow both more aware of his surroundings and completely oblivious to them; he was surprised to realize she had backed him against the rock formation, and he was pinned between the insistent rhythm of her hips and the unforgiving stone, but he was aware of every sound coming from the woods around them - the gentle trickle of the water, the sounds of a twig snapping here and there, the gentle buzz of insects and the insistent call of birds.

Wait… there it was again, the same bird call… and again, further away.

"Aravas, stop," he hissed softly. She ignored him and bit harder at his pulse point. It drew a growl from him, but his hands moved firmly to her hips and pushed her away. "Stop!" She whimpered, her eyes dark with desire, and tried to lean back into him. He swallowed hard, "listen."

The bird call echoed again and Aravas groaned in frustration. "Fenedhis! Our hunters and they're close."

"Yes," Solas sighed. She finally stopped fighting him, and he relaxed a bit.

Her eyes flashed mischievously, and she leaned forward, licking at his throat as she whispered heatedly, "on second thought, I don't care."

It took everything Solas had to shove her away from him, not roughly, but just enough to put some distance between them. "You do care," he admonished as he willed his heart rate to slow and forced himself to think of anything but her body next to his. He shifted, trying to arrange himself to be more comfortable, aware that his arousal was certainly showing in his breeches.

Aravas' eyes fell to the bulge, and she licked her lips in an almost predatory manner. "Mmm… right now, I really don't," she replied huskily.

"Until we're discovered, and you lose your honor and possibly your position as your clan's First," Solas countered. She seemed to deflate, then, and she took a step back, unsheathing her staff from her back and gripping it tightly. Solas suspected she needed something to do with her hands to prevent them from moving back to his body. He mimicked her actions, crossing his arms tightly in front of him to keep his hands occupied.

"This is probably the worst thing about being Dalish," she grumbled.

Solas couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, what? It isn't the centuries of oppression and slavery? The loss of your history and art? Having to move around because you are reviled and blamed for everything from famine to war? Not having a place to call home?"

She sighed heavily and shrugged a bit. "All of that is terrible, yes. We need to combat racism and attempt to free more of our kind as we can. We need to work on better relations with our brethren in alienages and accept that right now, there is more than one way to be an elf. All of that is fighting against outside influences at massively uneven odds. But this is something we do to ourselves because we… well, I'm not sure why, really. There's no evidence that Ancient Elves revered virginity or practiced celibacy in large numbers. I understand why unions with non-elves are discouraged given the child will always look like the non-elven parent, and I understand why we encourage _everyone_ to produce children, if possible - our race is practically on the brink of extinction. I even understand why unions must be approved; Keepers often have to check records to make sure that inbreeding won't produce non-viable children… but to discourage pre-marital sex and place such high regard on bonding is ridiculous. You would think, if more children were needed, they would encourage… more sex."

He laughed a bit, not quite believing what he was hearing. "So… your main complaint about being Dalish is… a lack of sex?"

Aravas flushed and shrugged. "That sounds so _crude_ , but it's incredibly inconvenient and absolutely ridiculous. We all do it - sneak around to have affairs and trysts. Arlathvhen is practically a massive orgy in between arguing over history and religion and sharing discoveries, but everyone turns a blind eye to the sex and acts like it isn't happening. No one ever talks about the ridiculousness of the entire situation, and the _hahren_ act as if it's so scandalous when just a few decades earlier they were doing the same thing. For Creator's sake, Solas, there are rumors my mother and Keeper Istimaethoriel were _lovers_ before my mother and father were bonded; that's supposedly why my parents joined Clan Lavellan!"

"You aren't originally from this Clan, then?" Solas asked.

Aravas shifted slightly, a sign of her discomfort at her arousal still humming for attention and gave a firm negative shake of her head. "No. Several years before I was born, there was a particularly rough winter season for Clan Lavellan. There was a large hunting party which got caught in an avalanche in the Venmark Mountains and the Hunts master and most of the Clan's best hunters were killed. My parents came from Clan Ghilain but took the name Lavellan when they joined to show their intentions to remain loyal to their new Clan. There are a few hunters from Clan Ghilain that joined them and a few from Clan Sabrae."

"So… your mother and Deshanna…"

Aravas shrugged. "Maybe. Again, it's just a rumor, and I've never asked because it's none of my business. My parents loved one another, I have no doubt, but it's also no secret they were both incredibly close with the Keeper. And that is precisely my _point_. If the truth were ever to come out, it would be a greater scandal than the fact Deshanna has never bonded nor produced children. Her preference for women (if there even is one) would cause her to lose her position as Keeper when it has absolutely no bearing on her ability to lead. It's all absolutely ludicrous. This particular problem is one we've created ourselves - not one brought on by outside forces - and we could _fix_ it, but no one is willing to speak out. Maybe that will be my great contribution to the Dalish - changing our ridiculous hang-ups about relationships and sex."

Solas hummed noncommittally, his mind still reeling at how Aravas was approaching all of this. "So… I'm not your first…"

She laughed. "Do I act like a blushing virgin to you?"

"Well, no," Solas admitted, "but your father said you'd never shown any interest in relationships, so I assumed…"

"Mythal's mercy, Solas. Are you saying you discussed my virginity with my _father_?" Aravas asked, her voice rising half an octave in shock.

"Well, no. Not precisely. He was explaining the bonding ceremony to me and stated you'd never shown any interest, and I suppose I just assumed…"

"I'm twenty-five years old, Solas. My first Arlathvhen I was too young to participate in the debauchery, but the last one, I certainly wasn't. Truth be known, I didn't wait that long," she admitted. "There are a couple of other Clans in the Free Marches, our paths cross occasionally, and there are certain trusted _shemlen_ traders… as for bonding, Dalish courtship takes _years_ and I've been too busy trying to learn how to lead to pursue anything. Plus… the only man who I've ever been interested in sharing a bond with…"

"Chose someone else," Solas stated, finishing the statement for her. A silence fell between them as Solas began to understand Aravas' frustration with the current system. However, it didn't change the fact that if they were caught… unless Solas joined the Clan (which certainly wasn't happening)… her reputation would be ruined. He frowned a bit, and she seemed to watch him closely as if she were trying to figure out if any of this would matter to him.

She cleared her throat. "So… now that I've wasted several hours… what were you planning to work on today?"

Solas finally let his arms fall, grateful for the topic change. His desire had finally ebbed, and Aravas seemed to be more focused now. "Today… I was planning on attempting basic wards."

Her eyes lit up and she grinned broadly. "Let's get to it, then."


	6. Intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Aravas learns how to cast a ward, and Aravas' father subtly asks Solas what his intentions with his daughter are.
> 
> * * *
> 
> _It was foolish, irresponsible, and incredibly selfish of him to desire her, but he couldn't seem to help himself. He was drawn to her in ways he hadn't experienced since the heady days of his youth, both physically and intellectually. In another time - in another world where he'd never locked away the Evanuris - Aravas would have easily become his companion. There would have been no hesitation for him to devote himself to her and to ask the same of her; there would be no concerns about what it would mean for her position, no worries about it affecting her reputation. If anything, Aravas joining Fen'Harel would have only improved her reputation, served to show that although she was young, she was worthy of respect._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to offer some apologies that this took me two weeks to get written and posted. While I was trying to write this chapter I also wrote quite a bit of various stories that take place later in the saga. An entire chapter of what happens after she becomes the Herald is written, the epilogue to this story is written, and about 4000 words of a story that takes place after she's made Inquisitor are all written. My muse was ALL OVER the place in the last couple of weeks. Thankfully, I seem to be back on track and have already started on the next chapter. There are 2-3 chapters left in this particular tale (not including the epilogue).
> 
> * * *
> 
> Lots of Elvish in this chapter. Translations of less familiar phrases are in the end notes.  
> Most names came from [FenxShiral's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FenxShiral/pseuds/FenxShiral) fantastic [Project Elvhen: Book of Names](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4401050?view_full_work=true).  
> Other bits of Elvish from either [FenxShiral's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FenxShiral/pseuds/FenxShiral) [Project Elvhen: Expanding the Elvhen Language](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3553883?view_full_work=true) or [Project Elvhen: An Elvhen Lexicon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3719848?view_full_work=true)

Aravas was having a very difficult time concentrating on Solas' words. A mere few minutes ago, she was ready to throw him to the ground and have her way with him until the unmistakable calls of a nearby hunting party were detected. Truthfully, it was a good thing Solas had heard and recognized the bird calls for what they were, but at the time nothing had mattered more than the feeling of his hardness pressing into her, his hands on her body, the low keening moan and gasps of air escaping his lips, and the way her own desire was pooling in her smallclothes pulsing and hungry and wet.

His voice still held that edge, deep and dark and sensuous, like the bar of Antivan chocolate her father had gifted her for her eighteenth summer; it was so rich and _delicious_ it thrilled her to her core, and she'd savored it slowly, one morsel at a time. His words were doing that now, soaking deep into her center and stroking at her desire lazily, brushing teasingly against her skin, dipping into her wetness, and she was savoring them one syllable at a time. Her raw _need_ had abated some, but the desire was still there, difficult to ignore, leaving her slick and wanting, practically aching with it; she would likely stay that way until she crawled into her bedroll and put her fingers to work.

"Aravas? Are you listening?" Solas asked. He was smirking, cloudy blue eyes taking in her glazed over expression and her slightly parted lips. He could tell she hadn't been listening, was off in her own world distracted with desire. He found it both amusing and incredibly tempting. He could very easily be pulled off track and back into her arms, her lips, her touch, no matter how dangerous that could be for her.

She cleared her throat, a blush warming her cheeks. She knew she'd been caught. "Of course," she lied; she could tell he knew it by the way his ears twitched slightly as if his smirk was trying to become a smile and he was fighting it.

"And what was I saying?" Blue-grey eyes that reminded her of the color of storm clouds in an otherwise clear sky sparkled in challenge to her statement.

Her eyes narrowed, she bit into her bottom lip. He knew. He _knew_ , even though she'd been the one to draw their conversation toward magic. "Something about… wards?" she asked. "I'm sorry; I became distracted."

Solas didn't have the decency to bypass the discussion about _why_ she was distracted. It was starting to occur to her that the seemingly cool and collected apostate liked that he had her so worked up and was delighting in teasing her about it.  "Are you saying a frank discussion about the Dalish approach to love and relationships wasn't enough to distract you from our earlier activities?"

She huffed softly, her eyes drawn to a flash of white between the trees across the river. She heard a branch snap behind her in the woods and without thinking, signaled to the hunter behind her who had snapped the twig that she'd spotted a deer and the location. The hand signals were like a third language to her, so natural and fluid she didn't have to think about them. "Get down," she whispered to Solas, and she pressed herself to the ground from standing in a fluid motion.

Solas reacted half a second later and knelt just as the hunter behind her let his arrow fly with a sharp _twang._ She heard it pass over her with a familiar _whoosh_. Solas had not been standing in the flight path, but the drop to a knee had been safer than standing, accidents happened. The stag was hit and there was a flurry of motion on the opposite side of the stream as it scampered off injured, but not killed.

Several hunters emerged from the woods in tandem, passed by them in a silent sprint, on the move to track down the wounded animal, and Aravas sat up. "Good eye, as always," her father said from behind her, a hand mussing up her hair fondly.

"Get moving, old man, or you'll miss your kill," she teased, an annoyed expression on her face as she tried to smooth her hair again. Her father leaned down and pressed a warm kiss to her temple and then he was off with the speed of a much younger man.

Solas cleared his throat, waiting until her father had entered the woods across the river before saying smugly, "aren't you glad I stopped us now?"

She pursed her lips. "Aren't you?" she challenged glibly.

He inclined his head slightly as if conceding she was right without actually giving her the satisfaction of hearing it. He was still kneeling during their exchange, but he shifted slightly and sat down, crossing his legs. His expression became serious and the intensity of it drew her attention. "As I was saying, most spells are mana turned into physical action, but wards are a manifestation of your will powered by mana. They are a suggestion on how to behave or think or feel charged with mana. The strength is based on not just how much mana you provide, but also the strength of your will. The Veil does this to some extent: 'don't see', 'don't enter', 'stay away'."

"The Veil is a ward?" Aravas asked in confusion.

"Very much like one," Solas admitted. He seemed to frown a bit, but Aravas wasn't sure why. "It's a complex structure: part-ward, part-barrier, part something else entirely. You said once you've never seen a ward in action, but I'm almost certain you have. Have you ever visited an elven tomb?"

Aravas was trying harder to concentrate now and to ignore the dull ache that had settled between her legs. It was difficult, because Solas' voice was still distracting her, and her eyes kept inadvertently dragging to his lips. Her mind seemed to be divided between two thought processes at once: her desire for the man in front of her and his mention of the Veil. It seemed important, but she couldn't figure out _why_. Scholars had argued over the nature of the Veil for centuries, but Solas seemed to have an understanding that surpassed all of that. Was that it? Was that what was important? She nodded, managing to finally acknowledge his words. "Of course. Tombs and shrines often hold important cultural clues to our past."

"And have you noticed that some of these places fill you with overwhelming dread, or peace, or even… reverence?" Solas asked.

"Well sure, but I thought that was just the nature of where I was," Aravas replied.

"Yes and no. Many Elven tombs employ defensive mechanisms to protect them from looters and to ensure the dead are treated with reverence. Before the fall of Arlathan, wards were used to protect hahren who entered uthenera; afterward, at least for some time, they were added to tombs and shrines. Most tombs have charged artifacts supporting the wards - sometimes orbs or crystals - sometimes they are displayed and sometimes they are built into the very walls," Solas explained.

"Others have demons," she countered.

Solas sighed. "Well, yes. Spirits and demons were sometimes left to help guard areas of importance. But the thing you're missing is, if you've ever entered a tomb while fighting the urge to run away in dread, you've encountered a ward. Your ability to ignore it could be based on a number of things - the strength of your will compared to the caster's, how long ago it was cast, even how much mana was stored in the artifacts left to support it. They do eventually run out and need to be recharged."

"So… that's why you wanted me to learn ice magic," she said suddenly, an epiphany erupting into her consciousness.

"Yes. The best way to increase your willpower is to simply set yourself an insurmountable task and then complete it. We have - over the course of the last few weeks - been increasing the pool of your willpower and your mana both. In addition, the stillness and calm required to manipulate ice are also required for casting a ward. It isn't enough to simply will something; you must have clarity of thought and focus on a singular purpose," he confirmed.

"Alright, so… how do I cast one," she asked gripping her staff and moving to stand.

"Ah… no," Solas said before she could get to her feet. "That's why not many modern mages can master this. There's no need for a staff or flashy movements, and they'll most likely hinder you anyway. Once you move on in scale and complexity, maybe… but for now, it's simply you, your focus, and the Beyond."

"Okay," she replied. She settled back down into the grass. "But what do I actually _do_?"

"Creating a ward is both absurdly simple and immensely complex. Simply clear your mind, focus on what you want to will to happen, and pour your power into it. Once you master a single command, you can add more complex instructions or expand the area of effect. It will take intense practice, but eventually wards for privacy and protection will become second nature," Solas stated.

"But if I can't _see_ the ward, how will I know I've cast it?" she asked. He watched as she seemed to settle into herself, her palms resting face-up on her knees, hands relaxed, shoulders back, but also relaxed.

"Eventually, you'll learn to sense your own wards, but for now, that's what I'm here for," Solas explained. "Close your eyes; give it a try."

Aravas nodded, licked her lips, rolled her shoulders, and closed her eyes. She'd been meditating regularly enough that entering a state of mindful clarity was almost second nature, now, but for this, she wanted to reach as deep as she could. She focused on the feeling of her body in connection to the earth, the weight of her wrists and palms on her knees, her breath moving in through her nose and out through her mouth. She let her consciousness sink deeper and lower, stilling her thoughts. She could hear the sounds around her - insects, birds, the gentle flowing of the river, Solas' breathing - but she had no thoughts or concerns for them. They were there, existing around her, connected to her, but of no concern.

And then, just at that moment where she may have slipped into the Beyond or into a deep sleep, she began to focus on one single thought: don't look at me. It became a mantra, a single sentence which was the only thing that mattered, playing over and over in her head. She pulled at the Beyond, summoning mana which began to put shape into the thought. _Don't look at me. Don't look at me. Don't look. Don't look. Don't look._

It rang out from her, echoing in her brain, reverberating into her soul, and suddenly, Aravas _heard_ it like a church bell, a single deep _bong_ that called her statement forth into being. It moved outward from her, surrounding her body, enveloping her protectively.

Solas inhaled sharply, flinching slightly at the sudden manifestation of Aravas' will. For a few seconds, it blazed brightly against his retinas, like the sun, and he had to close his eyes against the force of it, overcome by the sudden desire to _look away_. It took a moment for him to override the sensation, to force himself to keep looking in her direction.

She opened her eyes. "How was that?" she asked. Solas could sense the ward wavering a bit as she broke her concentration; the intensity dropped, but the ward held steady; the desire to simply _stop looking_ at her thrummed throughout his body.

"Impressive," he said with a nod. "Intense, actually. I may have underestimated your abilities; you seem to be a natural. Rather than working your way up, I may have to help you control the initial casting, so it isn't so… obvious."

"Obvious?" she asked.

He laughed a bit. "You nearly blinded me in your desire to make me stop looking at you. If we don't get that under control every mage around you for miles will know when you've cast a ward. In matters of scale, though, it's much easier to work down rather than up. Let's try it again."

* * *

 

The clan had a good hunting day. Even after setting aside meat to cure to store for the winter, there was plenty left over for dinner and an impromptu feast had sprung up as the deer and rabbits and squirrels were cooked with various herbs and fruits and spices. The overall mood was joyous, but Solas couldn't quite feel a part of it.

He and Aravas had worked into the late afternoon, before abandoning their practice. The young mage had taken to wards like a fish to water, easily learning to control the strength and duration of her casting. It simultaneously made him proud and anxious; he found himself reluctant to leave and the easier this came to her, the quicker his departure loomed.

That was its own sort of problem. Solas' desire to tear down the Veil and help return the People to their previous glory was not lessened at all, even with the potential drawbacks of the Veil falling, but he didn't necessarily want to leave Clan Lavellan to do it. He may be able to find some supporters here, Agents eager to improve their lots in life, but he wasn't foolish enough to believe the entire Clan could be manipulated; Ghimyean, at the very least, still regarded him with suspicion.

And then there was Aravas.

It was foolish, irresponsible, and incredibly selfish of him to desire her, but he couldn't seem to help himself. He was drawn to her in ways he hadn't experienced since the heady days of his youth, both physically and intellectually. In another time - in another world where he'd never locked away the Evanuris - Aravas would have easily become his companion. There would have been no hesitation for him to devote himself to her and to ask the same of her; there would be no concerns about what it would mean for her position, no worries about it affecting her reputation. If anything, Aravas joining Fen'Harel would have only improved her reputation, served to show that although she was young, she was worthy of respect.

But here, now, among the wisps of the Elvhen known as the Dalish, a tryst with him could cost her everything. Which was why he was doing his best to not give in, even as she tempted him. The desire to stay with her was nearly overwhelming, but he couldn't join the Clan (he'd never subject himself to vallaslin, the thought was sickening) and he certainly couldn't ask her to leave. This was her home, and the only life she'd known.

And honestly, it wasn't _that_ serious, was it? It wasn't like they were _in love_ , no matter how frequently he thought of her as "vhenan". He'd simply grown attached quickly because she'd helped him when he'd needed help, and she'd shown him depths he hadn't thought possible in this world. But he wasn't in love- and neither was she. Maybe he was looking at this completely inaccurately. Maybe what he needed was to simply get it out of his system. Maybe it was the allure of the forbidden which was more tempting than Aravas herself. Maybe if they took the next opportunity to indulge, he could move on, forget about her, and focus on his task.

Solas sighed heavily, stirring his rabbit stew absently as he reclined in the center of the campsite and considered their problem - or rather his problem. Aravas didn't seem to have a care in the world concerning the two of them. Whether she'd considered it beyond the first time, he wasn't sure, but he suspected the answer was no, and as long as they didn't get caught, Aravas was perfectly happy for casual sex. Maybe that was it, then, as long as they indulged cautiously, they would be fine.

His eyes sought Aravas and found her easily. She sat in front of a group of four children who were enjoying their stew and hanging on her every word. Her voice carried, even over the chatter of various groups milling about the campsite all enjoying a meal and a drink.

"Tell us one about Fen'Harel!" the littlest girl requested as Aravas finished her story. Her blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail and her blue eyes sparkled with excitement.

"Yeah!" the oldest boy exclaimed. "And make it a scary one! Where the wolf eats up little girls who don't listen to their older brothers."

The dark-haired girl to his left (obviously his sister) rolled her eyes and shoved him roughly. "Shut up, Varnhen. You're just mad because I can beat you up."

"No, you shut up, Panelana," he replied shoving her back just as roughly.

"You both should be quiet," Aravas began, "so I can tell the last story for the night. It's either that or I send you all off to your parents." The fighting siblings stopped immediately, both of them crossing their arms over their chests in a perfect image of another. "I will tell you a story about Fen'Harel, but it's not a scary one."

"I thought Fen'Harel was always scary," the third girl said, finally speaking. Her words were so soft, Solas barely heard them. He looked away from the group a bit and began eating his stew, still listening to Aravas. He seemed to be unable to stop.

"Not always," Aravas replied slowly, "Fen'Harel reminds us to always be cautious and thoughtful; to be wary of tricks and to consider who it is giving us counsel." She paused to take a drink before continuing. "A long, long time ago in Arlathan - the capital of our people's empire before it was destroyed by shemlen - a king had two daughters. One of the daughters was bitten by a poisonous serpent, and though they tried everything, the healers couldn't save her, and she died."

"I bet she didn't listen to her older sister, so Fen'Harel turned into the snake and bit her!" Varnhen interrupted.

"No, it wasn't that at all, da'len. Now hush and let me tell my tale. The king and queen mourned her deeply and held an elaborate ceremony (even by the standards of Arlathan) to commemorate her life. Their friends and family traveled from all over the empire to gather in celebration of the princess. At the ceremony, one young noble saw an elven lady so fair and perfect his heart broke. He fell in love with her instantly."

"What did she look like?" the third girl asked softly.

"That's not important," Aravas replied gently.

"It is," the girl objected. "If she was so pretty the noble fell in love with instantly, we should know how she looked."

Aravas sighed but gave the girl a small smile of encouragement. "Well, Silea, the story doesn't tell us what she looked like, only that she was beautiful. She can look like whatever you want her to."

"But what do _you_ want her to look like?" Silea insisted.

"Oh fine," Aravas stated, giving in to the little girl's question. "This time I tell the story, she will have long auburn hair that falls across her shoulders in waves and silver eyes, but don't hold me to that the next time I tell the story."

Silea smiled and nodded. "Okay, and what about the noble?"

"The noble?" Aravas glanced across the campsite, her eyes meeting Solas' where he sat watching her with rapt attention and ignoring his stew. "Well… he kept his head clean-shaven and his eyes were the color of a stormy sky - a light blue and gray with streaks of violet to represent the lightning."

Panelana giggled. "So, he was bald? On purpose? Why would he do that? What did he do in the winter when his head was cold?"

"He wore a hat," Aravas replied with a smirk. Panelana rolled her eyes but seemed to be satisfied. "By the rules of the ceremony, the young noble was unable to speak to her during the ceremony, so he couldn't learn who she was or ask her family for permission to court her. He had to leave and return home with no hopes of seeing her again. That night, he prayed to the gods, so that he may meet the elven lady again or learn the identity of his true love. He prayed to Andruil for victory in the hunt for the lady, Dirthamen for the secret of the woman's name, and Mythal for the lady's love. Finally, he made an offering to Fen'Harel. Out of all the gods, only Fen'Harel answered. He came to the noble in a dream as the noble crossed into the Beyond and listened to his story."

"What did Fen'Harel look like?" Varnehn interrupted.

Aravas sighed heavily. "He's a God, Varnehn, and they were in the Beyond. He could look like anything he wanted."

"But what did he look like? How did the noble know it was Fen'Harel? Did he come as a giant black wolf with six red eyes?" the blond girl asked.

"No, Leena, the gods are not always so heavy-handed," Aravas answered. "He could have come looking like you or me or the noble himself. He could have appeared as the noble's love, even."

"But what did Fen'Harel do?" Silea pressed.

Aravas looked for a moment like she was meditating for strength or perhaps saying a small prayer herself. "Fen'Harel appeared to the noble in his dream, as a vision of the noble himself, except that he was wearing the pelt of a great black wolf over his tunic." Solas shifted uncomfortably, but if Aravas noticed, she didn't say a word. "He listened to the noble's story and considered it from all angles. 'What should I do?' the noble asked. 'Simple,' Fen'Harel answered, 'kill the king's other daughter.'"

Leena and Silea gasped, while Varnehn's eyes opened wide. Panelana laughed a bit. "The noble awoke from his dream and contemplated Fen'Harel's advice. He considered it closely, but in the end, decided he couldn't go through with it. Days went by and then weeks, and the noble prayed daily to the gods, but still, none of the others headed his prayers. Desperate for another solution, he made another offering to the Dread Wolf. Once again, he answered the noble's call, appearing in his dreams. 'No need to thank me,' Fen'Harel said. 'I couldn't do it,' the noble replied. 'I couldn't kill someone just to meet her. There has to be another way.' Fen'Harel sighed. 'I'm not sure I should tell you this, because I'm not sure you're worthy of her love if you couldn't figure this out… but… perhaps you should just ask the king and queen who she was.'"

"So, when the noble awoke, he sought an audience with the king and queen. He told them about the lady he'd seen and described her beauty. The king and queen looked to one another and called in a servant. They asked the servant to ask their daughter to join them. The noble was shocked when the lady he'd fallen in love with walked in wondering why her parents had summoned her. The noble repeated his story to the lady who was flattered the noble had thought her so beautiful he would beseech the gods to meet her, and the two began courting right away. She fell in love with the noble and they soon married and lived happily ever after."

"But… why would Fen'Harel tell the noble to kill the love of his life?" Leena asked.

"Because he's evil. That's what he does!" Varnehn exclaimed.

"Fen'Harel is _not_ evil," Aravas corrected. "He is a trickster, true, but he's not evil. He told him to kill the other daughter because he knew that would result in another ceremony, where the girl would be present. It was a clever solution. But the story shows that sometimes the _best_ solution is the simplest solution, not the cleverest. Still, if the noble had listened, he may have discovered the identity of his love sooner."

"On dhea'lam."

The voice startled Solas away from listening to Aravas. He sat up straighter, eyes sweeping up to Aravas' father, as the man joined him without an invitation. "An'daran atish'an, Banassan. Your hunters did well, today," Solas replied, giving the man the compliment he'd likely been hearing all day.

The man nodded in thanks, rather than replying. Solas was stricken by both how similar and how different Aravas looked from her father. He was taller than average with skin that held a light golden hue and hair that had once been ebony but was graying with age. He wore his hair long (unlike his daughter) and pulled it back into a slicked ponytail. His eyes were the exact same as his daughter's - a steel gray that ranged from stormy to bright as silverite - and they shared the same nose and strong jawline. Solas found they even carried themselves similarly: shoulders held back as if they were ready to take on the world, strong arms always prepared for a fight, but light on their feet with an agility that seemed almost godlike. It was a bit unnerving. He supposed Aravas' other traits came from her mother.

"As summer approaches, the animals become more active. Things will be easier for a while," Banassan replied. "We may have to increase our patrols, though. We've spotted more shemlen moving through the area." He sighed a bit as if dismissing the thoughts of the business of helping to lead the clan and took a bite of his stew. Solas mimicked his actions. He'd nearly forgotten he had stew. "The Keeper and Aravas have indicated her training is going well. Do you think you will be successful with your attempt to create a new type of ward?"

Solas glanced at the man, wondering just how much Deshanna and Aravas actually shared with him. "I can't begin to predict that," Solas answered. "Your daughter does have a particular talent for warding, of that I'm certain, but whether anyone would be capable of powering a ward with an energy other than their own mana, I'm not sure. Theoretically, it's possible."

"Aravas is extremely stubborn," Banassan replied. "She takes after her mother in that regard. She will not give up until she becomes certain the task is impossible, and that will take some time."

"Yes, your daughter does have a tremendous amount of will," Solas agreed, "which is one of the reasons she is a formidable mage. In the end, though, if the laws of magic will not allow it, we should be able to determine that fairly quickly. No amount of will from either of us will allow us to override the laws of nature."

"And do you have a timeline for when to give up?"

"Pardon?" Solas asked raising an eyebrow.

"I suppose, I'm trying to ascertain how long you intend on staying with the clan," Banassan stated.

Solas became very still, his heart hammering heavily in his chest for some reason he wasn't quite sure of. His eyes flicked to Aravas who was finally dismissing the da'lin and standing to make her way to get another serving of food and tankard of ale. "Have I overstayed my welcome?"

Banassan laughed as his eyes moved from Solas' face to where the other man's eyes trailed. "Not at all. Although, if you have plans to stay longer, you may want to talk to someone other than myself, the Keeper, and Aravas. Some have expressed concern that you seem to want to stay, but not actually be part of the Clan."

The mage cleared his throat. "I don't want- I won't be that much longer," he said quickly. "I have other obligations to attend to. Just a few weeks at most."

"Hmmm… that's a shame," the hunter replied. "I think we've gotten used to having you around." Solas couldn't help but stare abashedly at Aravas' father, confusion plastered on his face. Was the man saying they _liked_ him? Or was there some other point he was trying to make? Solas found himself at a loss for words, while the hunter only smirked at him. "Excuse me, Solas. I think I'm going to finish supper with my daughter and then go to bed early. An old man needs his rest."

And with that, the 'old man' sprung nimbly to his feet and glided over to Aravas, leaving Solas to continue to stare after him in confusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _On dhea'lam_ \- Good evening  
>  _An'daran atish'an_ \- Greetings, Welcome, The place you go is a safe place. This is a formal greeting, probably more common in Ancient Elvish than modern. I chose it because Solas, and also because he's speaking with Aravas' father. Probably a good time to be formal.  
>  _Banassan_ \- a name of my own creating for Aravas' father. From _banal_ (darkness, destruction, nothingness) or _bane_ (dark, gloom) and _assan_ (arrow).  
>  _da'lin_ \- a gender neutral version of _da'len_ , still meaning child/young person.
> 
> The story Aravas tells in this chapter is a canon story from the novel _Dragon Age: The Masked Empire_ , but I expanded on it and added a bit more detail since we all know that every Keeper and Clan has their own version of these tales. A summary can be found on the [Fen'Harel Wiki](https://dragonage.fandom.com/wiki/Fen%27Harel) page.


	7. Truth and Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aravas spends an entire day with Ghimyean. What could possibly go wrong?
> 
> * * *
> 
> _"Aravas," Ghimyean's voice came breathless and he shifted to his feet quickly, crouching in the familiar pose of a hunter poised for action._
> 
> _She almost answered him, but he tapped her arm twice, his hand immediately firing off hand signals._
> 
> Shemlen. Warriors. Horses. Heavily armed. 6. North-northeast.
> 
> _Aravas' eyes snapped up to the direction Ghimyean indicated. The sun was glinting off plate mail, so bright it caused her eyes to hurt. She squinted, trying to make out the details and inhaled sharply as she sighted the red sword and wing emblem on their chests. "Fenedhis. Templars," she hissed because there was no hand signal for that._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter obviously came very quickly to me, but it wasn't a planned one at all. So we're still looking at another 2-3 chapters plus an epilogue until the end.
> 
> * * *
> 
> **Potential Trigger Warning:** I debated with tagging this and even pointing it out, but there is a scene which some might consider cheating in this chapter. No sex happens. And it's revealed that the nature of the relationships in question is not well understood, but... there is the possibility it may be triggering, so I thought I'd mention it.
> 
> * * *
> 
> As always:  
> Most names came from [FenxShiral's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FenxShiral/pseuds/FenxShiral) fantastic [Project Elvhen: Book of Names](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4401050?view_full_work=true).  
> Other bits of Elvish from either [FenxShiral's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FenxShiral/pseuds/FenxShiral) [Project Elvhen: Expanding the Elvhen Language](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3553883?view_full_work=true) or [Project Elvhen: An Elvhen Lexicon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3719848?view_full_work=true)  
> Lesser known bits of elvish are translated at the end, so you don't have to go digging in the above resources to find them; most of the Elvish in this chapter can probably be figured out via context clues, but just in case...

Aravas stood still hardly daring to breathe for fear of being stabbed with tiny pinpricks of pain. The dress she wore had been dyed the soft blue of forget-me-nots, and Elera, Ghimyean's mother, was busily pinning it for the final fitting.

"Breathe, Sael," Elera said. "If you don't, we risk this being too tight. I don't want you to faint during Ghimyean's bonding."

Aravas exhaled slowly as Elera placed another pin. "Can you make it looser? So that I can wear breeches underneath? Dresses are so… uncomfortable."

Elera grinned up at her from her position on the ground, a fond smile on her face. "You remind me of your mother when you say things like that. Ladahlen hated dresses. She refused to marry in one, even."

"Really?" Aravas asked raising an eyebrow. "Did you know my parents before they joined the clan?"

"Of course," Elera replied, smiling fondly. "We all became close friends at Arlathvhen when we were children. Your parents invited Deshanna and me - and a handful of others - to their bonding ceremony. Ladahlen showed up to her own bonding in white cotton breeches and blouse, carrying her bow and quiver of all things. She gave thanks to Andruil for her success in hunting your father's heart. Your father is the one who asked Sylaise to bless their household. The hahren were not amused with her choices."

Aravas smiled somewhat sadly. "I didn't know. Baba never talks about their wedding. He rarely talks about her at all."

Elera sighed, folding the fabric to adjust the hem up some. "Your father loved your mother very much. It's been a long time, but I don't think he's ever gotten over losing her."

"I wish he could have found someone to make him happy. I know it wouldn't have replaced her, but-"

"Oh, I don't think your father is unhappy, or even very lonely," Elera interrupted, patting Aravas' calf absently to soothe her. She pursed her lips in deep consideration. "If you are certain you want to wear breeches, I can take this hem up more, or we can leave it long so you can go without them. It will be cooler if you don't wear them."

In the last few days, spring had begun to move farther from winter toward summer. Instead of a light chill hanging in the air when the sun was down and the day being comfortable while the sun was up, the days were starting to near uncomfortably warm with humidity that hung in the air after the spring rains. The dress was already sleeveless and made of breathable cotton, but the ceremony was still a couple of weeks away. It could become unbearably hot. It could also become cool again and make the breeches necessary.

"Mae, Eirlana has decided- oh, Aravas." Before she could decide, Ghimyean entered the tent, stopping short as he saw her. He went silent, his eyes sweeping her quickly. A faint blush appeared on his face, and he seemed to exhale a bit. "You look…"

"Weird, right?" she offered. "In a dress." She ran a hand through the back of her hair nervously, the shortness of the freshly shaved follicles felt soft against her palm. She winced a bit as the nervous shifting caused the dress to pull, the straight pins scraping against skin lightly.

"Right. Weird," Ghimyean said with a nod. He crossed his arms over his chest, fixing his eyes on a point over her shoulder rather than looking at her. Aravas nearly sighed aloud. She thought he'd wanted her there, but ever since she'd agreed to be Eirlana's maid of honor, Ghimyean had been treating her with more indifference than usual.

Elera cleared her throat. "What were you saying, da'ean?"

"Eirlana has decided on flowers for her bouquet," he replied. "Gardenia and blue hydrangea."

"There's no hydrangea in the forest," Aravas stated. "But there's a small shem settlement to the east between here and Kirkwall. A farmer's wife grows them. I noticed her flower garden last year. I could go there tomorrow, see what she might want in trade."

"Have we ever traded with them before?" Ghimyean asked.

"No, but it's fine. There aren't that many people there and-"

"No. We'll figure something else out," he interrupted.

She inhaled sharply, the fact he interrupted her irritating her instantly. She pushed the irritation down, quickly summoning the now familiar state of calm she'd re-acquired from her training. "Let me do this for you- for Eirlana," Aravas offered.

"You're not going to an unfamiliar shem settlement alone, just for flowers," the hunter argued, his voice rising a bit.

"Fine. I won't go alone. I'll take Solas," she challenged. She knew that would provoke him, but she couldn't seem to prevent herself from saying it. The flush of anger peaked out from Ghimyean's collar and traveled up his ears quickly.

"Certainly not. I will not send two elven mages alone. You can't wander up to shem with your staves out. You'd be locked into a Circle-"

"So, I won't take my staff!" she was shouting, now. Elera sat, watching the two with amusement on her face. Aravas supposed the woman was used to their bickering by now. "I don't need a staff to cast spells, Ghimyean. I'll take a bow. So will Solas."

"You don't even know if he can shoot!" Ghimyean's voice had raised to meet hers, and Aravas knew that anyone within a few feet of them could certainly hear the shouting, even if they couldn't make out the words. They likely could make out the words.

"You don't know he can't!" She stepped closer to Ghimyean, a challenge shining in her eyes, her jaw set.

"Absolutely not. I forbid it. You're not taking _him_ to barter for flowers for _my_ bonding ceremony, and you're not going alone," Ghimyean took a step closer, narrowing his eyes at her.

"Then what - exactly - do you suggest?"

"I'm going with you."

"Fine!"

"Fine!" He spun on his heel with a huff and stormed out. He peeked back in a moment later, "meet me at dawn on the east side of the camp."

"Great! I will."

Elera cleared her throat and reached forward to place another pin in Aravas' dress. "I… I think we'll leave the hem here," she said softly and with amusement. "You can take it off now."

* * *

 

Dawn came very, very early. The light armor she'd donned felt heavier than she was used to; leather and quilted padding and bits of metal clinging to her in ways she had never had the privilege of becoming familiar with. It wasn't enough to restrict her movements, but if they ran out of arrows and she had to resort to magic, Aravas would likely need to take at least parts of the armor off to aid her casting.

They were traveling lightly, a meal of bread and jerky and dried fruit the only thing packed in their packs. Their mission, today, was to determine if the farmer's wife would even be willing to trade them some flowers. If so, someone would return the day before the wedding for them. If not, well, their only goal, at that point, was to not be killed.

Ghimyean was already waiting on her as she joined him on the east side of the campsite, one of her father's bows strapped to her back. Her father had insisted on her taking a few exploding arrows and a nearly full quiver, arguing that they didn't know what they may run into. She had twin daggers strapped to her belt because although she'd never been formally trained, she was relatively certain if worse came to worst, she could kill a man with them; a third, smaller dagger was tucked into a sheath in her boot, in case things became extremely dire.

"Savhalla, Aravas," Ghimyean said softly. Whatever anger he'd had that had prompted this trip seemed to have faded and he glanced at her in the rising sun.

"On dhea," she replied equally softly. "We should get going. The farms are a few hours away."

He nodded in response and began walking. The pace he set was quick, but not uncomfortable for Aravas. Truth be known, she was regretting volunteering to do this and was hoping that he'd have decided to go on his own. The silence fell thick and unforgiving between them, and Aravas let her mind wander so she didn't have to think about it. She thought of her training with Solas, her father's reaction to the trip, even tales of the Evanuris. She was so lost in her own thoughts she almost didn't hear him speak when he finally did.

"Aravas, ma serranas," he said.

"Ahnsul?" she asked, confusion about why he might be thanking her clear on her face.

"For agreeing to be Eirlana's maid of honor. It means a lot to her," Ghimyean clarified.

Now, Aravas was really confused. Why would he think it meant a lot to Eirlana? And why would Eirlana ask her to do it for Ghimyean if he didn't want it? Was he even aware that Eirlana had used him as the reason for her request? "Hmm," she replied noncommittally.

He reached out to grab her arm, turning her around to face him. "That's it? That's all you have to say?" he asked.

"What more should I have to say? You're welcome, Ghimyean. I'm glad I could make your future _wife_ happy," she snapped. She shrugged his hand off her and kept walking, veering slightly off due east. She was relying on her memory to navigate, but thankfully she had a decent memory when it came to landmarks and directions.

Ghimyean jogged to catch up with her, sighing heavily. "What's so wrong with me thanking you, Ara?" He watched her flinch and said quickly. "Sorry, Aravas. I'm trying."

"For the first time in twenty-five years," she huffed. "I just… I don't understand what is going on between you two. Eirlana came to me and asked me to be her maid of honor. She claimed… she claimed _you_ wanted me involved in your ceremony. She claimed it would hurt you if I wasn't. So, I agreed. But now you're thanking me because it makes _her_ happy? I didn't do it for her. I did it for you!"

"She… didn't tell me she told you that," he mumbled. He ran a hand through his hair, frowning deeply. "Well, then… thank you. From me. For being willing to do that for me."

"You were… you are… my best friend, Ghimyean. I just want you to be happy." Her statement held thick in the air, and she glanced over at him. He had that faraway look in his eye that he often got when talking to her, and she inwardly sighed. She trained her own eyes on the horizon, sweeping across it to take in the plains before them. Up ahead, there was a small grouping of wild harts and a few clouds beginning to form.

Thankfully the day wasn't too hot, and they were able to conserve their water on the way out. Nearly an hour had passed in silence, with neither one of them eager to break it, and she could see the fence of the nearest farm on the edge of the horizon. It was still several minutes away, and she sighed softly. "It's up ahead," she said, feeling like stating the obvious was the best way to go.

"We should approach from stealth," Ghimyean replied.

"From stealth? There's no cover. We're not hunting these shem. We're coming to trade with them. Smile, be friendly, be open," Aravas sighed, "but of course, be on guard. Let me handle the talking."

Silence fell again until they neared the farm. Going against all of her instinct, Aravas waived at the farmer in the field as they approached. "Good afternoon," she called. The farmers in the field - three of them - stopped to look at her and Ghimyean tensed, ready to fire at them in an instant.

One of them raised an arm in greeting, and Aravas began approaching, a smile plastered on her face. Ghimyean was just a few steps behind her. "Hi there," she said as she approached the fence.

The nearest farmer had stopped harvesting his grain and wiped a sleeve over his sweating forehead. He was older - maybe in his 50s - with salt and pepper hair kept short. His skin was darkened reddened from the sun and heat, and his face had a close-cropped beard. He gave her a nearly toothless smile. "Hi travelers," he said. "Or hunters, more n'likely. Come ta trade?"

"Yes, actually," Aravas replied brightly. "My friend here is getting married next week, and his lady has asked for hydrangeas for her bouquet. I remembered your wife's flowers, so I thought I'd see what she might like in trade for a few blooms."

"Flowers? I thought ya might be interested in some oats," he said. He rubbed his forehead again and glanced from Aravas to Ghimyean.

"Well, we might be," Aravas replied after a moment of consideration. "If you've got other trade agreements we understand, but our clan could always use grain. Let's see if we can come to an agreement on the flowers, first."

"Oh, aye," the man nodded, calling out in a deep voice. "Martha, love, got some traders fer ya." The woman who came from inside the barn had her blond hair pulled up in a bun. She was a decade or so younger than her husband, and she approached with the swiftness that youth afforded her. "Martha, this is…"

"Aravas," she said taking the woman's offered hand. Her grip was strong, and her palms calloused in a way that suggested she had - at one time in the not so distant past - been a soldier. "That's my friend Ghimyean." Martha accepted his hand and nodded in greeting.

"Don't know why you want to talk to me about trading," she said, her Fereldan accent noticeable. "Remy here normally handles the business of the farm."

"Well, I'm getting married in a couple of weeks," Ghimyean spoke finally, nearly making Aravas jump from her skin. "My future wife has asked for hydrangeas for her bouquet."

"We were wondering what you might need or want in exchange for some of the blooms," Aravas added. "Obviously, we'll be back to get the cuttings, but we want to make sure-"

"Honey," the woman replied without hesitation. "One jar. But I know that can be scarce, and the flowers probably aren't worth that much, so if honey is as rare for you as it is us, then berries. I'm pretty sure there are wild berry bushes in the forest you're camped near, we just don't have time to make it out that way."

Ghimyean glanced at Aravas, completely unsure if what they were asking for was too much for _flowers_ for Creator's sake. But Aravas just held out a hand, "honey or berries it is." The two women shook on it as Remy looked on. "Now, don't think this means we'll be pushovers about those oats, Remy. My friend's wedding day is special, and your wife has lovely hydrangeas," she said with a laugh and a wink.

"Course not," Remy replied with a chuckle. "Well, would you like ta stay for lunch? I'm sure Martha's fixed up more'n enough."

"No, thank you. It's kind, truly, but we should head back. We'll be cutting it close to make it before sunset as it is," Aravas replied. "One or both of us will be back in a couple of weeks to make the trade. Martha, Remy, it was a pleasure meeting you both."

* * *

 

They stopped at an outcropping of rocks which contained a cave tucked behind some trees as the sun was at its peak to rest, drink water, and eat their packed lunches. Aravas chewed her bite of jerky absently, wondering how long Ghimyean could actually stay silent. She took a drink from her skin and sighed softly in contentment. "That went well," she said softly.

"Mmm," Ghimyean hummed.

"I mean, we managed to get Eirlana's flowers, and possibly a source of oats for the Clan."

"Mmhmm."

Aravas sighed and popped a dried cherry into her mouth. She wasn't sure why Ghimyean had frozen on her, practically refused to look at her, since early that morning. He hadn't spoken directly to her directly unless he'd had to. She ate the fruit quickly, watching it as if it were the most important thing in the world.

"Aravas," Ghimyean's voice came breathless and he shifted to his feet quickly, crouching in the familiar pose of a hunter poised for action.

She almost answered him, but he tapped her arm twice, his hand immediately firing off hand signals.

_Shemlen. Warriors. Horses. Heavily armed. 6. North-northeast._

Aravas' eyes snapped up to the direction Ghimyean indicated. The sun was glinting off plate mail, so bright it caused her eyes to hurt. She squinted, trying to make out the details and inhaled sharply as she sighted the red sword and wing emblem on their chests. "Fenedhis. Templars," she hissed because there was no hand signal for that.

She shoved the rest of her fruit and bread back into her bag, as Ghimyean did the same. He stood quickly, shifting his quiver onto his back, and he nearly stepped out from the trees.

"No," she demanded, grabbing his hand and pulling him into the cave. "What are you _doing_?"

"Moving, Aravas. We need to get back to the Clan, we can't just wait for them to pass us," he whispered.

"Ghimyean… they're Templars. Mage hunters. They can _sense_ me. If they sense me and I go back to the clan…" she whispered back, letting the sentence trail off. Her heart was pounding in her chest, mind racing.

"Well, I'm not sitting here in this cave, waiting for them to find you," he hissed, moving to step out of the cave.

She grabbed his arm and pulled him back in. "Get close," she said. "I can ward us."

"Magic? Can't they sense that?" he asked, stepping back a bit.

"I don't think so. Not this. Wouldn't be much good if they could," she said shaking her head. "So, get close. This may be my only chance." Ghimyean froze. He didn't protest and didn't leave, but he wouldn't get closer either. Aravas wasn't sure she could protect him too with him an arm’s length away. She sighed heavily, wrapped an arm around Ghimyean's waist and pulled him close. He exhaled sharply, the air pushed from his lungs as he fell against her roughly.

She cleared her mind quickly, focusing on what she wanted. _Don't look, keep walking, you can't see us, you can't hear us_. It was more complicated than any ward she'd ever attempted, and larger, too, but she felt it flicker to life, tingling on her skin. She wondered if Ghimyean could feel it on his.

Aravas closed her eyes, tried not to think about his body against hers, the warmth of his breath against her neck, the way his arms had fallen protectively around her. She tried not to think about her pounding heart, the adrenaline pumping through her body; the certain imprisonment or death that awaited her in the form of six shemlen Templars just outside.

The ward was holding steady, and she kept pouring energy into it, hoping beyond all hopes the Templars didn't recognize it for what it was. Time seemed to stretch painfully. Aravas wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, both of them terrified to move, but she slowly became aware of the thing she'd been trying to ignore: Ghimyean's firm body against hers.

She shifted slightly, her heart beginning to pound again as she realized he was hard against her thigh. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable. I just… wasn't sure I could ward both of us."

"It's fine," Ghimyean replied breathlessly, his voice husky with desire.

"No… it's… I know that just adrenaline and a physical reaction to being close to another body," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

Ghimyean moved slightly, looking down at her in the dull light coming from the entrance to the cave.

"I don't think… I know you don't… I know you love Eirlana," she choked out.

"Aravas, shut up," he said, licking his lips, and shifting slightly. He seemed to forget to breathe for a long moment before he inhaled sharply and glanced outside. "They're headed south, for Kirkwall. Still in sight."

Aravas nodded and held the ward, unsure how close they had to be to actually sense her. She felt Ghimyean shift back closer to her, felt him turn his face back into her neck, heard him inhale her scent. His lips brushed featherlight against her jawline and she closed her eyes, trying to ignore the sensation as the ward flickered.

"Can… can I kiss you?"

The question was soft, mere air against her ear, and Aravas tensed, unsure if she'd actually heard it. She nodded in response, a timid motion that Ghimyean would only pick up on if he were looking for it - a way for her to play off her answer if she was imagining the question.

She wasn't.

Ghimyean's lips captured hers boldly, one hand moving from her waist to her cheek. The fingers of his large hand curled under her chin keeping her head tilted up into the kiss. In spite of herself, she whimpered softly as his tongue teased her lips open, soft strokes sending a jolt of desire down her spine. Her head spun, the ward fell, and Aravas decided that if she were going to be discovered, this would be as good of a reason as any. One kiss melded into another and another, slow and sensual and sweet.

She'd had dreams like this, sort of, but Ghimyean's kisses in her dreams had been more demanding, rougher, and full of unbridled passion, more like Solas' kisses in real life. She inhaled sharply and shakily through her nose as her brain started working again, speeding through thoughts faster than she could keep up.

_Solas_. Would he be upset? Angry? Hurt? She was here kissing another man, and they'd never discussed what the boundaries of their relationship were. Did they have a relationship? Did he expect fidelity? Well, even if he didn't _Eirlana_ certainly expected it from Ghimyean. Their bonding ceremony was in two weeks. _Two weeks_.

With a great will, she broke the kiss, turning her head from Ghimyean in case he tried to start the kiss again. They were both breathing hard, she could feel his heart beating wildly in his chest in fluttery time with her own. She cleared her throat. "Eirlana," she said by way of explanation. Ghimyean stiffened next to her, dropped his arms to the wall of the cave, and pushed himself from her forcefully.

"Right," he said with a nod. "Of course." His voice had taken that familiar clipped tone, his jaw had set, his eyes had glazed over. He was _angry_ with her. Again.

How was that fair?

"It's not my fault you chose her," she snapped, and she shoved by him, looking out of the cave toward the direction the Templars were traveling. They were far enough away, mere specks in the distance, it should be safe to move. "Let's go."

She adjusted the quiver on her back and shoved a frustrated hand through her hair. The silence now was more painful than it had been in the rest of the day, the guilt of the kiss burrowing its way inside of her. How could he have asked her that? How could she have said yes? And why was he acting like _she_ had done something wrong? Just her. Like he bore no responsibility. Why was he always the one angry with her?

The last part of their journey seemed to go quicker as the sun lowered in the sky, and as they got nearer to camp, Aravas became aware this may be the only chance she had to clear things up with Ghimyean. This was the point of no return. If it didn't happen now, it would never happen. She stopped suddenly and put out a hand, reaching for Ghimyean's arm. She turned to face him.

"Look… this… whatever it is… Ghimyean, I'm tired of it. It's been happening since we were twelve, since I became the Clan's First. I don't like it. I don't know what I did to upset you. I don't know why you can't look me in the eye. What did I _do_ , huh? What did I do that was so terrible you could be mad at me for thirteen years?" Ghimyean sighed heavily. He glanced at her and then away, locking his eyes above her at a point on the horizon. "No. Stop that. Look at me. Look at me and tell me."

"You didn't _do_ anything, Aravas," he whispered, finally looking at her. "At first… at first, I was _afraid_. After what I said about your mother, you looked at me with such hatred… and then you set that arrow on fire, and… and Creators, Aravas, I thought you wanted me _dead_. I couldn't blame you, really. It was a horrible thing to say, but I liked making you angry. I still like making you angry. You're so… so… pretty when you're angry." Aravas inhaled sharply, his statement feeling like a dagger in her heart. He thought she was pretty. He thought she was _pretty_?

"Then I just… I felt guilty. I know I didn't make you a mage, but maybe if you hadn't gotten so mad, maybe you would have been able to control your magic. You were such a good hunter; you were the best… and you loved it. I took that away from you. I took away your _choice_ and that wasn't fair. You're a great First. You're smart and compassionate and fair, but you didn't choose that. You _chose_ hunting. I took away the thing you loved the most." He looked away from her, then, his green eyes suddenly watery with tears.

"It's hard to look at you, knowing I did that… to my best friend," he whispered. "It's easier to not look at you, to pretend I'm mad, to keep you at a distance. I _hurt_ you, and it was easier not to deal with it. Not dealing with it, just… became a habit."

"You… think I'm pretty?" she asked. For some reason, that particular phrase had stood out to her. The rest was important, but that… that had made her flinch for some reason.

"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," Ghimyean answered.

"I'm the most beautiful woman you've ever seen… and you can kiss me… like… like you did, but you're bonding… with Eirlana? _Why_? Are you in love with her?"

"I… I care for her," he said simply, but he shifted on his feet, nervously glancing to Aravas and then back to something in the distance.

"You… you care for her? But are you in love with her?" she demanded.

"Ara, please…"

"Void take you, Ghimyean. Answer the blighted question. Are you in love with Eirlana?"

"No," the answer came as if it was torn out of him and he began pacing.

"Then why are you bonding with her?" Aravas crossed her arms. She should probably be angry about this, about all of it, but she wasn't exactly. Not yet. Disappointed. Concerned. Confused. Irritated. Her anger was far away, looming in the distance.

"That's not my story to tell," he snapped. "You'd have to ask her."

"I'm not asking her. I'm asking _you_. Tell me… tell me how you can tell me I'm the most beautiful woman you've ever seen, and kiss me so sweetly, and then marry someone else." There it was, the anger. It was starting to simmer now, low and warm, and it gave her voice a hard edge.

"Eirlana's in love with a woman!" he shouted, spinning on his heel to face Aravas. "A dwarf! She's a member of the Carta, and Eirlana gets some of the metals she uses in her jewelry from her. They see each other twice a year; if they're lucky, sometimes more if Eirlana can find an excuse to trade. But she's grateful to Clan Lavellan for taking her in and keeping her safe, and she doesn't want to leave us… and Creators, Aravas, she wants children. Elven children. To raise in the Clan. She's in love with this dwarven woman, but she feels so indebted to us, she wants to contribute by having children for us! She trusts me… not to… not to force myself on her for pleasure. She knows, obviously, to have children, we'll have to… but with me, she knows it would be on her own terms. Not on mine."

"Who in our Clan would do that?" Aravas asked, her eyes narrowing a bit. "Who would force themselves on a woman? Tell me, and I'll kill them myself."

"Mythal's mercy, Aravas. No one that I know of, but that's hardly the point. The things Eirlana went through in Rivain," he shook his head, not wanting to go into detail. "I don't even know everything and even if I did, I wouldn't tell you, but it's made her timid, particularly around men. She's learned to trust me. So… she asked me… if I would… and I said yes. I've met her lover, she's okay with it all."

"But what about you? Don't you deserve more?"

He sighed heavily. "No, you do. You deserve more. You deserve better… and it didn't take you long to find it."

Now it was time for her anger to boil over. It hit Aravas quickly, pouring over the floodgates with abandon. "Fuck you, you self-righteous prick." Ghimyean stopped pacing, eyes going wide at Aravas swearing at him. In spite of her tendency to swear in Elvish, the more colorful bits of Common normally never left her mouth. "You don't get to stand there and act superior because I decided to attempt to move on from a crush after you told me you were bonding with another woman. You also don't have a right to pretend that your altruism toward Eirlana was anything but cowardice. In one breath you say you felt guilty for taking away my choice, and in the very next one, you insinuate you at least partially accepted Eirlana's offer because you know what my choice would be. But you didn't, did you? You did it because you were _afraid_ I would reject you… and by agreeing to bond with her you took away my choice - _again_."

"You didn't have a right to decide I deserved more. You didn't have a right to think you weren't good enough for me. You didn't have a right to choose for me. Only I had that right… but you did it anyway _._ So, fuck you. Fuck you and your choices. Fuck you and your judgment. Fuck you and your jealousy."

Aravas spun on her heal, continuing their journey toward camp, walking briskly. Ghimyean struggled to catch up. "Aravas, wait-"

"No. Look. It was easy for you to pretend to be mad at me, right? So, go back to that. Forget I know. Forget that any of this happened."

"Ara, please-" She silenced him with a look, and whatever he was going to say, he bit back. If the earlier silence was uncomfortable, this was downright painful, but Aravas refused to break it. It took them less than a half an hour to make it to camp, and she threw open the flap of Deshanna's tent without even announcing herself, unsurprised to see her father in the tent with the Keeper. Ghimyean entered a moment later, careful not to run into her.

"They agreed to trade for the flowers - a jar of honey or fresh berries, whichever we think is fair. They're interested in talking trade for their oats, as well, but I told them we would talk about that after the trade for Eirlana. On our return trip, we ran into six Templars moving from somewhere in the North toward Kirkwall. There was no fight, they didn't see us, but I suggest you send someone else with Ghimyean to complete the trade in two weeks. Now, I'm going for a bath and then to bed, if anyone needs me."

Before anyone could stop her or interrupt for more details, Aravas left the tent, anger still simmering just beneath the surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _sael_ \- "First". Most people just refer to Aravas by her name or by the Common title "First", but occasionally someone will use the Elvish.  
>  _baba_ \- short for father, i.e. dad, papa  
>  _mae_ \- short for mother, i.e. mom, mum, mama  
>  _da'ean_ \- little bird; an affectionate nickname that's a play on Ghimyean's name, which means "hunting bird"  
>  _savhalla_ \- hello  
>  _On dhea_ \- good morning  
>  _ahnsul_ \- why, for what


	8. Homesick and Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Solas spends a day without Aravas, and when she returns they have an important discussion.
> 
> * * *
> 
> _With a sigh, he headed to the Clan stores and helped himself to an apple, relieving it of the crate they'd been keeping it in. A pair of tiny feet padded up to him, and a small frame took his side. "An'daran atish'an, Solas," the girl said softly._
> 
> _"An'daran atish'an, da'lan," he replied as he looked down at her. Solas recognized her as the soft-spoken girl who'd listened to Aravas' story, the one who had demanded more details than her First had wanted to give. She seemed pleased he'd addressed her with formality, and she beamed up at him with a bright smile. "A'melin Silea?"_
> 
> _The girl scrunched up her nose as if thinking deeply, and then frowned. "I don't know that one," she said with a sigh. "How do you know so much Elvish?"_
> 
> _"I'm old," Solas replied with a smirk._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it goes without saying, but just to be clear: the first part of this takes place at the same time as Chapter 7. the last part is after Chapter 7. I don't think there's any Elvish here that's too difficult to figure out, but if so, comment, and I'll add some definitions.
> 
> Also, be prepared for all kinds of feels in this chapter. It was a roller coaster to write, let me tell you.
> 
> * * *
> 
> As always:  
> Most names came from [FenxShiral's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FenxShiral/pseuds/FenxShiral) fantastic [Project Elvhen: Book of Names](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4401050?view_full_work=true).  
> Other bits of Elvish from either [FenxShiral's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FenxShiral/pseuds/FenxShiral) [Project Elvhen: Expanding the Elvhen Language](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3553883?view_full_work=true) or [Project Elvhen: An Elvhen Lexicon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3719848?view_full_work=true)  
> 

Solas found, quite unexpectedly, he wasn't sure what to do with himself when Aravas wasn't around. It had been a growing problem, as preparations for the bonding ceremony began to take up some of her time. There was suddenly a great number of minutiae which required her to spend time with Eirlana - the color of her dress, procuring the fabric for said dresses, a great debate over vows, discussions with musicians about music; it seemed never-ending. She always made time for him, though, and their sudden time apart only served to make him look forward to seeing her again.

The time apart had been good for his focus, as well. He had been able to enter the Beyond and locate agents; several were already working on completing assignments, the most important of which was regaining control of the Eluvians. Once he had the ability to travel through Thedas at will, he could easily locate and obtain his artifacts of power - if any remained. He had already determined his mask had been destroyed, but the orb was the most important piece and it was, at this moment, missing.

With that said, when he wasn't in the Beyond, Solas was, essentially, lost. He'd worked his way through the Clan's meager library quickly, and though he had managed to procure a blank journal, he simply couldn't occupy all of his free time with sketches and writing. He still found it difficult to start up conversations with anyone but Deshanna or Banassan on his own but had found he could easily tag along with them and help them teach.

The Dalish way of teaching and learning was crude and more primitive than learning in Elvhenan, but he supposed that was the fault of the Beyond being separated from the physical world. Knowledge and memories recorded at Vir Dirthara easily transmitted to new owners in ancient days, allowing one to glean years of experience in one simple reading. There were lectures and debates and grand discourse that would fill meeting halls for hours. Scholars spent years on essays and projects; creating new disciplines and courses of study simply for fun. Of course, there were opportunities for hands-on learnings, as well, but with the knowledge of Vir Dirthara accessible, hands-on and practical experience required much less repetition than it did now. In Elvhenan, the rote drilling Aravas had found necessary to learn to use ice magic would have never been required.

But if the Dalish did have one thing right, it was their knowledge (such as it was) was universally accessible. No one was excluded from learning and everyone was encouraged to find a true passion to pursue. True, many Dalish chose to hunt - because hunters were needed and honored - but even they could learn to read and write if they wished. Slavery in Elvhenan had led to accessibility… issues. Every Evanuris treated their slaves differently, some allowing them free time to pursue interests, and others simply used them as an expendable resource. He sometimes wondered how many talented mages like Aravas had been born into slavery and had their potential squandered. He didn't like to dwell on it.

 And now, he had an entire day to fill without Aravas.

His business concluded in the Beyond early, one of his agents having a lead on his orb. They still needed to determine if it was still intact or not, but while they were gathering information, Solas could do nothing but wait.

The day was already warm as he stepped out of the tent, he shared with Banassan, and the Clan had been busy for what seemed like hours already. The hunters were already gone, alternating between patrols and hunting duty; there was laundry to be done, leather to be tanned, crafts to be completed. After the bonding ceremony, a small caravan would be headed to Kirkwall to trade.

With a sigh, he headed to the Clan stores and helped himself to an apple, relieving it of the crate they'd been keeping it in. A pair of tiny feet padded up to him, and a small frame took his side. "An'daran atish'an, Solas," the girl said softly.

"An'daran atish'an, da'lan," he replied as he looked down at her. Solas recognized her as the soft-spoken girl who'd listened to Aravas' story, the one who had demanded more details than her First had wanted to give. She seemed pleased he'd addressed her with formality, and she beamed up at him with a bright smile. "A'melin Silea?"

The girl scrunched up her nose as if thinking deeply, and then frowned. "I don't know that one," she said with a sigh. "How do you know so much Elvish?"

"I'm old," Solas replied with a smirk. The girl shrugged as if that was an acceptable answer to her question. "I asked if your name was Silea."

"Oh, yes! It is," she said excitedly. She looked from Solas to the aravel serving as their stores and back to Solas. With a soft hum to herself, she stepped onto the front hitch, using Solas to help steady herself, before nearly throwing herself up across the edge of the wood blocking half of the opening. She struggled a bit, before managing to balance herself just enough to reach in to retrieve an apple, and then she intentionally fell backward landing on her feet on the ground, just barely missing the hitch.

In all of her struggling and scheming, Solas had noticed her right arm was bound in a splint and sling, and he wondered why she just didn't ask for help. "I would have gotten that for you," he said, "if you'd only asked."

"I know," Silea replied confidently. "But I wanted to see if I could do it. I wanted to figure it out." She took a bite of her apple.

"What happened to your arm?" Solas asked, before mimicking her and taking his own bite.

"I fell out of a tree, yesterday. There was a bird's nest with babies. I wanted to see them. I like animals. I'm not a very good hunter," she explained, the words pouring out of her as if Solas had asked for her life story, "so, I think if I don't get magic and become the Second, then I'll probably see about becoming halla amelan."

"Oh, do you want to be a mage, then?" Solas asked, raising an eyebrow.

She nodded. "I think it would be good. Deshanna is very wise and protects the Clan. She's always reading and learning new things and teaching them to us, and Aravas is nice and tells stories really well, and she's really very smart." The girl fell silent and took another bite of her apple, chewing it thoughtfully. "Aravas is going to be gone all day," she informed Solas as if he might not know. "She went somewhere with Ghimyean. I thought you might be lonely."

"Do I seem lonely?" he asked.

"You seem… lost," Silea replied, and Solas certainly couldn't argue. He couldn't help but wonder if Silea was merely perceptive, or if she was gleaning information from spirits. She transferred her apple from her good hand to the one in the sling and reached up to take his hand. "Come on, hahren. I'm going to keep you company." Solas found himself being dragged off to an area away from most of the camp, still visible but tucked out of most everyone's footpaths. There, on a crate, someone had set up a chessboard, the pieces tossed haphazardly on top. "Will you teach me? I asked some of the other hahren, but they're busy with preparations for trading or the bonding ceremony or whatever it is they're busy with. Sometimes they wouldn't tell me."

Without waiting for his answer, she sat down on one side of the board, cross-legged, staring up at him expectantly. Solas sat, crossing his long legs and regarding her closely. "You're not escaping some more important duties, are you? Skipping out on lessons or chores?"

Silea shook her head vehemently. "Nope! I only have one hand, right now, so there isn't much I could do, or at least that's what they think." She grinned at him and set her apple on her knee. "I can keep you from being lost all day."

"Well, okay, then," Solas agreed. "Let's start with the names of the pieces and how to set up the board."

* * *

 

Solas couldn't sleep. It was rare this happened to him, in spite of all the things which had occurred which should have kept him up at night. Tonight, the air was thick with gathering storms, oppressive and sticky, and his mind kept wandering through troubles - both ancient and present.

He'd spent the day with Silea, the young girl drawing him out of his shell far more than any of the adults of the Clan had managed to do - save Aravas. She'd shared all the important stories of her short life and asked him for bits of knowledge about himself and the world that he found he wasn't reluctant to share. And at some point, far into the day, close to dinner time, Solas realized he'd been lulled into complacency by her similarity to another young girl, lost first in service to Dirthamen and now long gone to either uthenera or death.

How was it possible he'd gone so long without thinking of his daughter? And now that he'd thought of her, he couldn't seem to stop.

Or rather, if he did stop, all he could think about was Aravas. She'd returned from her trip with Ghimyean obviously upset but unwilling to speak with anyone about it. In truth, he understood, sometimes the best way to deal with something was through time alone, and he would have been content to leave it that way, but for the fact, Ghimyean had _spoken_ to him. Solas had almost thought he'd imagined the man's quiet "on nydha" as he passed him and had barely managed to reply with his own "da'reth shiral." At first, he'd simply thought it odd and thought perhaps Aravas had made some plea on his behalf, but slowly he began to piece together that something had happened; something more than a near run-in with Templars.

With a heavy (but intentionally soft so as to not awaken Banassan) sigh, Solas threw back the covers to his bedroll. The air still felt too thick and oppressive, and he pulled off his tunic and tossed it into the heap of fabric. The flap to their tent had been left open in a failed attempt to entice the breeze. Solas left the tent, bare feet padding over the ground nearly silently. He wandered through the campsite, weaving his way through the now familiar tents and aravels headed for the open plain he hoped would tempt the air to move. The position of the moons told him it was closer to dawn than dusk, which meant he didn't have much longer to attempt to sleep anyway.

The back of the figure which was already in the plains almost didn't surprise him, and even though it was dark, he could see enough of her with the moonlight behind her to tell it was Aravas. He waited until he was close enough for her to hear him before he said softly, "it's me."

"I assumed," she replied, amusement clear in her voice. "What are you doing up so late? Or is it early?"

"I suppose that depends on if you've been asleep or not," Solas replied as he came to stand next to her. Far in the distance, there was lightning, way in the upper atmosphere, which lit up the sky in brilliant hues of orange and purple. It would be hours before the storm reached them if it didn't change course entirely or burn itself out.

"Have you?" she asked.

"No. Have you?"

She shook her head and wrapped her arms around herself. It was hard for him to make out the details of her face as dark as it was. She inhaled through her nose slowly and exhaled through her mouth, the familiar sound of her deep breathing as if she were attempting to relax working to calm him, too. "I guess I don't have to worry about you waiting for me in the Beyond."

"Not tonight."

"No, not tonight." She reached for his hand, twined her fingers with his and gave it a squeeze. "What's keeping you up tonight?"

He couldn't stop himself from finding comfort in her touch, couldn't stop his thumb from running over the back of his hand, couldn't stop himself from wondering if maybe, maybe he should give up his plan to tear down the Veil and choose to just… _stay_. He could be happy here, with her, for some time. He wouldn't be alone… but it would be fleeting. Soon, far too soon, she would grow old and die, leaving him with nothing once again. "I guess, for the first time in a long time, I'm a little homesick."

She hummed thoughtfully as the lightning went off again, the distant rumble so far away and so spaced out, Solas wasn't even sure he'd heard it. "Do you want to tell me about it?" Aravas asked. "Would that help?"

He gave her hand a squeeze, grateful she'd offered to listen, but not quite willing to take her up on the offer. Not yet. If he began to confess to her the details of his past, there would be far too many things he could not answer or explain. Not yet. And that wouldn't be fair. "Not tonight," he answered truthfully. "Maybe someday." She nodded, and as the sky lit up again, he stole a look at her face, the grave expression, and the way she licked her lips absently. "What about you? What happened today?"

"How do you know something happened?"

Solas couldn't stop the low half-chuckle, half-snort that escaped him. "It's no secret you were angry when you arrived at camp, lethal'lan, and…" he hesitated, the word hanging in the thick air while he contemplated if he should say the rest, "well… Ghimyean spoke to me. So, something you said or did made an impact."

"Ghimyean isn't the only thing that can upset me, you know," she challenged. He felt her fingers loosen from his as she nearly withdrew her hand, and it took everything Solas had not to snatch it back, but she seemed to think better of it, and instead gave his hand a squeeze.

"I know," he confirmed, his momentary panic assuaged, "but I doubt you'd be so rattled if it were only Templars."

"I'm not sure I can explain why I'm upset," Aravas said softly. "Ghimyean and Eirlana aren't in love, which should make me happy, I suppose… except that he's only bonding with her out of some twisted sense of benevolence toward her and because he decided - without asking me - that I would be better off with someone else. At first, I was angry, because I thought he'd been avoiding me for half my life because something was wrong with _me_ , and then I was relieved because it wasn't me, it was _him_. And now, now I'm just numb, because he was kind of right, wasn't he? I wouldn't have been happy with someone who could make those kinds of decisions without talking to me, who could think they know what's best for me and act on it without my consent. I _do_ deserve better than that."

"You do," Solas agreed with a nod.

"He thinks I've found it with you," she whispered so softly Solas wasn't sure he heard it. "I'd like for that to be true, I think, but I know it isn't." Solas opened his mouth to protest but found he couldn't find the words, especially not when the lightning went off in the distance and he caught her staring at him, their eyes meeting with the brief flash of orange. He managed to count to 10 before the rumbling, rolling thunder reached them. "Because you won't _stay_ ," she added, "you can't. I've seen it in your eyes, in the way you retreat into yourself, and you think I won't notice. I've seen it in the way you talk yourself out of getting too close to me… or anyone else in the Clan. I don't understand it, but I accept it."

"Aravas, I-"

"No, let me finish," she said, turning to face him, with a gentle tug of his arm. She was still holding his hand tightly, and her free hand found his face, cupping his cheek. Her thumb ran softly over the curve of his lips, and Solas found himself closing his eyes and leaning into her touch. "It might not be better, because it isn't forever. For whatever reason, you can't give me forever. But it's okay. For _now_ is enough, because it's all you can give. You're enough."

The words seemed to hang thick in the air between them, both of them reluctant to say them, both of them reluctant to acknowledge what Aravas was getting at with all of her words, dancing around the statement, but saying it so clearly. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, in a slow, sensual kiss that thrilled Solas from the tips of his toes to the tips of his ears. The thunder rumbled in the distance as she leaned into him, and for the first time in a long time, Solas didn't feel so alone; the words they couldn't say aloud rumbled in his head, in his very soul.

_Ar lath ma, vhenan. My home. My heart. My Aravas._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone else still reeling from the concept of Solas as having been a father? No? That just me? Cause it came out of nowhere, but once I wrote it, I couldn't delete it.


	9. Connection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a bonding ceremony... and Aravas takes her father's advice.
> 
> * * *
> 
> _She sighed in exaggerated exasperation and popped the grape into her mouth. "Finally left Deshanna's side, have you?" she asked teasingly._
> 
> _"For now," he replied with a half-hearted shrug. "I didn't come over here just for you to tease me, da'assan."_
> 
> _"No?" Aravas asked in mock surprise as she ate another grape and followed it with a sip of wine. "Was it simply to offer suggestions on food and wine pairings? Because you were right, grapes with wine, not with ale."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **THERE BE SMUT BELOW!!!** Yes, finally the chapter that gave this fic its rating. The first two parts are clean. The last part is not. There will be a link to skip to the end notes if you want to do that prior to the smut. I will warn you - there are some explicit Elvish phrases translated in the endnotes as well, but I'll mark them separately.
> 
>  **PLEASE READ THE TAGS CAREFULLY** as they have been updated to include all the specifics of the smut. I don't think things are too terribly triggering, but just in case.
> 
> I apologize for this chapter taking so long. It's been... over 5 years since I last wrote het smut, and between my fear of screwing it up, a couple of migraines, and a cold, it took me a while to create something I was okay with posting.
> 
> * * *
> 
> **I feel a severe need to apologize for the next chapter/epilogue.** It will... likely leave some of you feeling unsatisfied and cheated... I am not even going to lie. However, I'm ending this installment of the series here, because the rest of it will be taking place in the canon framework. This is where the series gets... fun.
> 
> The main bits of the storyline will be broken up by each segment of the main game storyline. There may be side relationship stories and one-shots in addition to the main storylines. I'm going to be working diligently to post things as close to chronological order as possible. I'll also be coming up with some way to designate main storyline versus side plots and must reads.
> 
> **All of that said, even though the epilogue is sort of unsatisfactory I'm posting it tomorrow. Along with the prologue and Chapter 1 to the next story (titled Haven's Trouble). I did this so you wouldn't have to wait in suspense for too long.**
> 
> * * *
> 
> As always:  
> Most names came from [FenxShiral's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FenxShiral/pseuds/FenxShiral) fantastic [Project Elvhen: Book of Names](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4401050?view_full_work=true).  
> Other bits of Elvish from either [FenxShiral's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FenxShiral/pseuds/FenxShiral) [Project Elvhen: Expanding the Elvhen Language](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3553883?view_full_work=true) or [Project Elvhen: An Elvhen Lexicon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3719848?view_full_work=true)  
> Lesser known bits of elvish are translated in the endnotes.

This was easier than she had expected it to be. It was easy to put on the dress, to line her eyes with kohl, to dust some colored mica on her cheeks, and to apply beeswax tinted with berries to her lips. It was easy to braid Eirlana's hair, to twist the crown of flowers and place it on her head. It was easy to bundle the bouquets and tie them with ribbon.

It was easy to stand next to Eirlana and listen to Deshanna give a speech about the importance of the bond and how two lives were becoming one. It was easy to discretely lock her eyes on her father's shoulder, as he stood next to Ghimyean's father, both of them serving as his best men. It was all easy.

Until Ghimyean began to say his vows, and she felt his eyes on her rather than Eirlana. For an instant, she glanced over and their eyes locked, and she realized his voice was shaking. "Ara lethal'lan, lasan ara'len sul saota. Lasan ara'sal, sule ha'lam'sal'shiral," Ghimyean began. It seemed difficult for him to go on, so Aravas calmed herself, inhaled slowly, willed her heart to stop beating so quickly, and gave him an encouraging nod. Her eyes moved from his bright green eyes, pupils wide with fear, to the back of Eirlana's head, willing him to _look_ at his future wife. When he picked up his vows, she glanced back up and found he was finally looking where he was supposed to be.

That… hadn't been so easy.

Her eyes moved over to where the rest of the clan gathered, most of them too enraptured with the couple to notice she wasn't paying attention and the smile she'd plastered on her face was fake. The children were restless, rocking from foot to foot or playing with hems of their clothing; the adults were either blissfully remembering their own bonding or dreamily planning their future ceremony.

Aravas silently wondered how damn long it took to say some vows in Elvish. Time seemed to creep painfully slowly, and she wondered if someone had somehow cast a spell to slow it. Every moment was an eternity, and she couldn't figure out where to look or what she was supposed to be doing. Why was this so awkward? Why couldn't she be happy for them like a normal person? Why couldn't she listen to them saying their vows without the urge to roll her eyes?

She finally found Solas, standing away from the rest of the clan, but respectfully standing at attention. Her father had loaned the man one of his dressier tunics, lightweight cotton trimmed with a navy silk ribbon. It was a bit large on Solas and he'd belted it at his waist to keep the billowy fabric under control. When her eyes met Solas' even across their distance, her fake smile became genuine.

It was her turn to be reminded that something important was happening and she should be paying attention. Solas inclined his head in the direction of the couple, and Aravas tuned in just in time to realize that Eirlana needed Ghimyean's ring from her. She handed the ring (carved from ironbark by Eirlana herself) to the woman; Eirlana's hand was shaking so badly, Aravas couldn't help but wonder if maybe she was having second thoughts.

The last bits of their vows were completed as the two asked Sylaise for her blessing and exchanged rings. They clasped their hands together as Ghimyean's father handed over a length of cord; Deshanna began wrapping their wrists slowly as she spoke about how these were the hands of their best friend, how they would always love and cherish and support one another. Aravas couldn't help but feel faintly nauseous; she forced herself to stop listening. As the final knot was tied, Deshanna pronounced, "you may now share your first kiss as husband and wife."

She was a bit smug at their wide-eyed and concerned looks; apparently, they hadn't considered this part. Ghimyean leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on Eirlana's lips, both of them faintly blushing. "Kiss her like you mean it," someone taunted from the crowd, and all of Aravas' smugness disappeared as the clan laughed.

Ghimyean shot the clan a glare, eyes narrowing as he tried to place who had made the comment, but Eirlana took the comment in stride, using their combined hands to pull Ghimyean in for a passionate kiss. Ghimyean didn't seem to know what to do with his free hand, but Eirlana wrapped her hand around his neck, her fingers playing with his hair. Unbidden, Aravas flashed back to the cave, thought of how Ghimyean had wrapped his arms around her and kissed her as if his life depended on it; the memory stood in sharp contrast to the way he let Eirlana take the lead, almost as if he was afraid to touch her. No wonder she felt safe with him.

The kiss must have satisfied the clan, because they started clapping, a cheer rising up. Ghimyean broke the kiss, his face a bright scarlet at the joyful cheers. Aravas thanked every single one of the Evanuris plus Fen'Harel (and the Maker for good measure) that it was over.

* * *

 

Eirlana and Ghimyean couldn't seem to separate from one another, even though the rope joining their hands had been artfully slipped off and presented to them as a keepsake. They sat, huddled together, his arm around her and her leaning into his shoulder as they shared some joke and laughed. Aravas hoped they continued to be as happy as they looked now.

The alcohol had been flowing for hours, the boar (which Ghimyean had gone hunting for early that morning) had been roasting on a spit and was now being served, and the campsite was filled with games and laughter and music. She hummed quietly along with the tune the musicians were playing as she helped herself to another tankard of ale.

She took a seat, back to the sun, and sipped her ale, her eyes searching out Solas in the crowd; she never thought about how large her clan _really_ was until everyone actually gathered in the same place. It took her a moment to find him, but when she did, she smiled to herself. Solas had somehow been roped into playing cards with some of the hunters and he seemed to be enjoying himself as he won yet another round. The hunters were either drunk or close to it because even from her distance Aravas could tell Solas was cheating, but they seemed none the wiser.

"I come bearing gifts," a voice said beside her and she looked up at her father as he sat next to her. He had a bowl full of grapes in one hand and two mugs of wine in another. He set the grapes between them and handed her a mug.

"I just got ale," she scoffed. She was feeling warm, a lovely fuzzy feeling having settled over her, helping her to relax.

"Yes, but you can't drink ale with grapes, and no one said you can't have two drinks at once," Banassan retorted. She rolled her eyes at him as he pulled her in for a one-armed hug. "Now stop arguing with your old man." He picked up a grape and handed it to her.

She sighed in exaggerated exasperation and popped the grape into her mouth. "Finally left Deshanna's side, have you?" she asked teasingly.

"For now," he replied with a half-hearted shrug. "I didn't come over here just for you to tease me, da'assan."

"No?" Aravas asked in mock surprise as she ate another grape and followed it with a sip of wine. "Was it simply to offer suggestions on food and wine pairings? Because you were right, grapes with wine, not with ale."

"Actually, it was to give you some very important life advice," he began.

"Oh, baba," she groaned as she rolled her eyes. "Look, it's a party; everyone's laughing and joking and having fun. Let's not ruin it."

"That's the advice, da'assan. Everyone deserves to have some happiness - even if it's fleeting, and even if the Clan wouldn't necessarily approve," Banassan began. "Solas-"

"No," she said frantically, trying to get him to stop because she simply was not going to discuss her love life - or lack thereof - with her father. "We are not going to… no."

"I'm just saying-"

"Baba! No!"

Undeterred, her father began again. "As someone who has some experience in seeking his own happiness when he can, you should probably listen to what I have to say," he started. She turned to look at him with wide eyes, both wanting to ask for details and desperately not wanting to ask for details. "There was just a bonding ceremony."

"I'm aware," she interrupted. "I was there."

"Yes, but… look around you. Everyone is happy… and drunk… and completely oblivious," he said motioning at the clan. He helped himself to a grape and took a hearty drink of his wine. "And if you look closer, you'll notice there are some suspiciously absent people."

"Oh, Creators," she mumbled.

"I'm just saying… everyone's going to be happy and distracted for the next three days. Long nights and sleeping in… no hunting… no patrols… drinks and music. No one would miss anyone who wanted some privacy." Banassan's silver eyes were glinting mischievously and Aravas suddenly understood how everyone knew she was up to something if her eyes managed to look anything like her father's.

"And you've taken advantage of this often?" Aravas asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

"Enough," he replied with a smug grin and a shrug. He grabbed a handful of grapes and began eating them, the expression on his face very much resembling the cat who ate the canary.

"With whom, precisely?" she asked and then immediately regretted it. "Never mind. I don't want to know."

Banassan sipped his wine; Aravas could feel his eyes move from her to the dancers and back to her. He seemed to be considering something deeply. Finally, he sighed a bit. "You've heard the rumors about Deshanna and your mother?" he asked softly, careful to not let his voice carry too far. Aravas nodded and ate a couple of more grapes, not sure she could look at him and hear whatever it was he was going to say. "They're not completely unfounded," he began, "but they're also not perfectly accurate. The three of us…"

He let the statement trail off, allowing Aravas to fill in the blank. She sipped her wine for strength, then, and chased it with a long draft of ale for good measure.

"It was likely Deshanna was barren… and so we decided your mother and I would bond because that was the logical thing to do. But when the opportunity came for us to all be together-"

"Baba… I really don't want to know this, I think," she whispered softly. "Not all of _that_. I just… I'm glad you're not lonely."

"You shouldn't be lonely either."

"It's different," she protested, taking another drink of her wine. "For one, you were able to tie it up in a package our society could accept. For another, you were all Dalish… and lastly, I don't think he's staying; he doesn't want to go, but he can't stay. Soon, probably sooner than I want, he'll leave, and I told him that was okay. Because it is. But…"

"Stop," Banassan said firmly. "You have to stop overthinking things. Do you want him?"

Aravas flushed and nearly choked on her ale. "Baba!" she exclaimed.

"That's a yes. So… take the opportunity while you can, Aravas. Don't let this be a moment of your life you regret."

[[skip the smut and go to the endnotes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17363696/chapters/42473342#chapter_9_endnotes)]

* * *

 

"Excuse me, gentlemen, but I need to borrow Solas. I have some questions concerning… magic… I need to ask him," her voice came from behind him, warm and honeyed. Solas wondered how long it would take her to come to him. He'd watched her for most of the day, as she moved through her clan, conversation after conversation taking her attention. He lost track of how many times she'd drank or eaten. He'd watched her carve into the boar with satisfaction written on her face, watched her share a dance (impossibly) with Ghimyean, watched her braid Silea's hair to match Eirlana's, watched her speak with her father. All the while, he felt her eyes on him at times, taking him into their silvery expanse as eagerly as he found his own appraising the smooth slope of her jaw, caressing the length of her neck, tripping over her curves, following the roundness of her ass; sometimes their eyes would flicker together, meeting across the space between them with desire.

"Oh, come on, Aravas, let the man take a day off. We're all supposed to be celebrating," the hunter named Mahanon protested as he shuffled the deck of cards.

He looked up at her, smirking slightly. "It seems duty calls," he said, trying to sound as apologetic as possible, though he was relatively sure he sounded _eager_.

To Solas' right, Ithelanas snorted. " _Duty_ he says. Can't think of a man here who wouldn't be pleased to fulfill _that_ duty… except for Banassan."

Aravas blushed darkly and opened her mouth to sputter protests, but Solas stopped her. "Ithelanas, I do believe you're drunk," he observed. "I very doubt you'll be fulfilling _anyone's_ duty tonight." The hunters all laughed, Ithelanas included. Solas had to appreciate a man who could laugh at his own expense, and his lips curled up in a grin in spite of himself. He stood as gracefully as he could manage given how long he'd been sitting, before motioning for Aravas to lead the way.

He followed behind her, certain anyone who witnessed them could see where his eyes rested and how appraising he was of her… assets. If there hadn't been rumors before, there would be after today. He let her lead him out across the plain and into the woods, where she took his hand, fingers entwining like the strands of a Lovers' Knot. She glanced back at him, a smile on her face, eyes sparkling mischievously… and in an instant she took off, dropping his hand and springing up to the balls of her feet in a full-on sprint.

It took Solas a moment to respond, to rise to the balls of his own feet and begin the pursuit through the woods. The ground was soft as he followed the flash of her in front of him, pushing through the underbrush, dodging roots, each step bringing him closer to his goal. His heart was pounding in his chest, blood pumping with the thrill of the chase, muscles straining, calling back memories of hunts from millennia ago; he hadn't felt this alive since he'd awoken.

She came to a sudden halt at the river - _their_ river - and Solas just barely drew up short enough to stop from running into her. He threw his arms around her in triumph, pinning her arms to her sides, his hand pressed against her quickly beating heart, and she leaned back against him. Solas kissed the back of her neck, the soft spot behind her ear, as they both regained their breath. Whatever lazy warmth he'd been feeling from mead and ale and wine was gone - burned off from the intensity of the chase.

Aravas dropped down, arms moving up and over her head to break his hold; a defensive maneuver designed to prevent an enemy from squeezing the life out of you. Solas laughed; she had the heart of a hunter - a warrior - and he wasn't sure anything would ever change that. She grinned at him over her shoulder, finding amusement in his delight, as she crossed to the river. She sat, pulling up her dress as she did so, and placed her feet in the running water. He joined her, pulling the legs of his breeches up before sitting and dipping his feet in the water.

When Aravas took his hand a moment later, Solas sighed softly, feeling content, even knowing what loomed in the future. "I'm sorry we weren't able to get your idea to work," he said, breaking the silence finally. "In theory, drawing power from the natural world to power wards _should_ work." In reality, it would have, had the Veil not been present. It was yet another thing he'd broken.

She shrugged. "You never know unless you try. We tried. We failed. Now, we know." He felt her eyes flit to him discretely, felt her grip on his hand tighten almost imperceptibly. "Are you… have you considered… that is… when are you leaving? Now that we know it won't work, you have no reason to stay. So…"

It hung in the air between them, the question she wanted to ask, the one he wanted to hear: will you stay? _Don't ask me that_ , he thought. _I don't think I can say no._ "I wouldn't say I have no reason to stay," he said softly, "but many years ago, events were set in motion, and I have to see them through."

She didn't reply, not immediately, and when Solas looked at her expectantly, he realized a tear had slid down her cheek. She must have realized it when she felt him staring because she wiped it away hurriedly. "I know. I think… I think I accidentally lied to you when I said that this was okay, that it was enough. I don't think it can ever be enough."

"Aravas, I-"

She must have been afraid of what he might say, then, because she tugged on his arm, pulling him to her; she took advantage of the way the move threw him off balance and captured his face in her hands, pressing her lips to his almost desperately. The kiss was bruising, almost painful, at first, but she broke it quickly, inhaling sharply and kissing him more gently then. She sucked on his lower lip, and his tongue pushed against her lips, seeking entrance. The soft moan which escaped her was barely noticeable, as was the shift of her body as she leaned into him.

The kiss broke, and Aravas moved, hiking up her skirt nearly to her thighs and straddling his lap. She couldn't seem to get close enough to him, pressing against him, her hands curling against his collar, thumb brushing against the silken ribbon there, as she kissed him again. He couldn't seem to get enough of touching her, his hands ghosting over the smooth planes of her thighs, sliding under the dress to grasp her ass, and then sliding over the soft cotton fabric to her waist, her shoulders, over the hard planes of her biceps. One hand moved to her head, fingertips delighting in the peach fuzz softness of the shaved back of her hair, before plunging into the longer, kitten-soft locks.

Aravas' hands wouldn't stay still; they were everywhere at once, a brush here, a touch there, grasping his shoulder one minute, tugging on his shirt and brushing against the hard lines of his abdomen the next. There was no fighting his desire, the heat pooling low in his stomach until he began to fill. She must have felt him, as her hips began moving, pressing against him. A low moan escaped him, barely finding purchase in the air as she gasped against his lips, only for their sounds to be swallowed again. Solas felt like she was trying to claim his soul through his mouth, and his sanity with the insistent press against his erection.

She broke the kiss again, her hands falling to the bunched fabric of her dress. She gripped it so tightly her knuckles were white, and she pulled the dress over her head, tossing it aside with wild abandon. He swallowed hard at the sight of her. He had thought about this many times, had pictured a slow and gentle undressing, time to explore and discover - but there wasn't enough time for that, enough time for _them_.

The other mage released her breast band with nimble and expert fingers, and Solas let out a strangled moan at the sight of her heavy breasts finally exposed. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her neck then her collarbone, his mouth working a slow trail downward as his fingers ran up her sides. "Aravas," he whispered heatedly, "we shouldn't."

His brain was protesting, but his body couldn't stop. His right hand cupped her breast, feeling the heft of it, and he squeezed it gently, his thumb stretching out to brush against the rosy peak of her nipple. He bit at her collarbone, fingers squeezing the now hard pebble of her nipple at the same time, his dick jumping as she let out a breathy moan.

She ground into him, and he was aware of the pre-cum he was dripping. They had barely started, and his arousal was so great he was nearly dizzy with it. She fumbled with the belt around his tunic, but she managed to loosen it before he'd kissed his way to her other nipple. Her nails scraped his sides as they curled under the hem of his tunic, and she tugged it roughly over his head.

"What are you doing?" he asked softly, taking the momentary pause to try to gather his resolve.

Aravas collapsed against him, and he delighted in the feeling of skin against skin. She was warm, a light sheen of sweat already slicking her body, as she claimed his lips again. Her hand slid down his chest, and she grasped his nipple, pinching it as roughly as he'd pinched hers. He groaned into her mouth, his cock jumping to press against her, and she smirked against his lips. "I'm taking my father's advice… seeking happiness… no matter how fleeting."

"Remind me to write him a thank you note," Solas replied breathlessly, and she laughed against his lips, the sound a mere huff of air.

He trailed his nails down her back, hands slipping under her small clothes to grasp her ass. Her hips jerked forward, her back arched, and Solas seized the opportunity to claim her nipple. He sucked gently, his tongue flicking across it with what he knew would be maddening speed, the pressure just barely there.

"Solas," she gasped. The sound of his name on her lips was possibly the sweetest he'd ever heard, and he rewarded it with a gentle nip on the hardened nub in his mouth. "Sathan," she whispered, her voice breaking as he tweaked the nipple he wasn't suckling. "Sathan, dava 'ma edhas."

He was caught between laughing at the fact the Dalish had apparently retained the naughtier bits of their language and spilling in his own pants at the sound of her breathlessly begging him to lick her pussy in Elvish.

He'd completely lost awareness of the fact his feet were still in the stream, and it took some effort for him to maneuver her off his lap and far enough from the river they wouldn't fall in. She lifted her hips and pushed off her own small clothes as he paused to unlace his breeches. His erection was becoming painful encased as it was.

Aravas watched with heated eyes as he pushed the fabric from his hips. He couldn't help but kiss her once he was naked, spreading out above her, a thigh pressed between her legs. The feeling of her body beneath his - its perfect combination of softness and hardness - was nearly too much for his resolve, and he very nearly plunged into her then. But he knew he wouldn't enjoy this nearly as much if he let his impatience override his desire to bring her pleasure.

His tongue blazed a trail down the length of her neck, pausing at her pulse to nip and suck. Her hands smoothed over his scalp then, fingertips brushing against the flats of his ears teasingly. He worried the spot until her hips began to jerk, her desire slicking the muscle of his thigh. He nipped the spot gently, before letting his tongue slide with the barest pressure down over her collarbone to one nipple, circling it once, before heading back up and over to the other breast where it circled that nipple once before sliding dutifully along the underside of her breast.

The trail slid down her abdomen, tracing the faint line down the center, before circling her belly button. Solas was unable to stop himself from letting the tip his tongue teasingly dip into the crevice. "Mythal's mercy, Solas," Aravas let out with a barely suppressed giggle. He smiled to himself as he diverged from center to her right hip. He sucked a spot there, just to the inside of her hip bone. "Will you get to it already?"

"Impatient?" he asked playfully, even as she placed her hands on his shoulders and tried to push him down further. He smirked to himself, letting her succeed in pushing him down, and he hooked her legs over his shoulders. He wasted no time in pushing his tongue between her folds, delighting in how deliciously slick she was for him.

The tip of his tongue just barely entered her as he drug it in long strokes up and down the center of her, putting extra pressure on her clit as he reached the zenith of his trail. "Fuuuuuck," she whispered heatedly.

Her reaction spurred him further, speeding up the passes of his tongue until he could no longer move that quickly. He plunged his tongue into her then, and he felt her clench as she tried to raise her hips and force him deeper. He fucked her with his tongue, just a few strokes seemed to drive her mad; her moans echoed around him, and her thighs clenched, but he knew this wouldn't be enough for her to find her release.

Solas slid his tongue back up, as his lips sealed around the hardened nub of her clit and he sucked it gently. That simple act had her scrabbling at the ground, and he couldn't help but suck harder, his tongue beginning to flick and roll against it with alternating pressures and speeds. He settled into a rhythm, sucking and releasing with the gentle rise and fall of her hips. His own hand moved to his hard cock, stroking himself slowly to the rhythm of her hips.

He could feel the tension in her body gathering, her moans becoming more fevered and higher pitched. He couldn't help but moan at the sounds of her pleasure; an immense sense of satisfaction at her reaction turning him on even further. Her thighs clenched, tightening around him as her heels pressed into his back; his hands moved to her ass, pulling her against his mouth, holding her there as he sucked harder, his tongue grinding harder against her clit. Her legs tightened nearly cutting off his oxygen as Aravas screamed her pleasure, her body spasming wildly.

He released the pressure slowly, his tongue slowing as she came down from her orgasm. Her legs relaxed and she collapsed bonelessly against the ground in a huff. He moved slowly up her body, careful not to touch her oversensitive skin as he watched the aftershocks of an intense orgasm move through her. "Mar rodhe ir'on," he whispered. He couldn't help but smirk in a self-satisfied way as he kissed her lazily. She moaned at the kiss, and Solas realized she was enjoying the taste of herself on him.

"Remember when you wanted me to clear my mind to learn to cast wards?" she whispered. Her tongue darted out to lick her juices from his chin. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. "That… that would have been the most effective method." She smirked at him; her hands moved to his shoulders, her legs wrapped around his waist, and before Solas realized it, she'd shifted her wait and rolled with him, pinning him to the ground.

Well… her recovery was certainly impressive.

Aravas nipped at his jawline as she slid back, her warmth barely rubbed against the length of him, drawing a moan from him. She sat up, tweaking one of his nipples as his cock pressed into the crack of her ass. Solas licked his lips, arching up, his eyes fluttering closed. His hand slid under her, tips of his fingers pressing into her, desperate for any contact with her heat. She let out a growl, grabbed his wrist and shoved his hand away.

She rose slowly up on her knees, her hand reached back to grip him tightly, and she slid down slowly, just the head of him breaching her entrance. "Ah!" he cried out. He was not expecting her to take control, and certainly not so soon after she'd cum for him. She tightened herself around him, squeezing and relaxing rhythmically. His hands flew to her waist as he arched up, but she moved with him, keeping just the head of him inside of her.

"Aravas! Please!" Solas didn't recognize the desperate sound of his own voice. Her silver eyes locked with his, and she moved her hand from around his cock and sunk onto him in one fell swoop. He moaned deeply as she gasped; the feeling of her stretching around him to accommodate him made his head spin and his eyes closed.

She began to move on him rocking slowly forward and backward, one hand placed firmly on his chest for balance. He opened his eyes, licked his lips, and tried to watch her as she moved. Her eyes were closed tight, her back arched slightly as she sat up straighter. Her hands slid up her own body and she squeezed her own breasts. Solas watched in fascination, his hand sliding between her thighs to press a finger against the nub between her legs.

Aravas stopped moving, her hand moving to his wrist and pushing it away. He groaned in frustration and moved his hand to her breast as she started rocking her hips again. This time she leaned forward suddenly, pinning his hand between them, the delicious slide of her around him as she pulled off his cock a couple of inches causing him to moan deeply.

"Let me," she whispered heatedly, breath warm against his ear. Her tongue darted out, tracing the shell of his ear and his cock jumped inside her. She let out a soft moan. "Let me ride you until I cum. Let me bring myself pleasure until I'm dripping all over you." Solas inhaled sharply, suddenly taut with desire at hearing what she was saying. "Leave your hands on my hips and let me do this. All you have to do is wait to cum. Do you think you can do that for me?"

Solas' heart was hammering in his chest. In all of his years, he'd never had a lover so artfully wrest away his control of the situation, never had someone take his desire to please his partner and turn it so fully on its head. The hand on her ass squeezed helplessly and he nodded once. She didn't move, leaving him on the edge, and he realized, slowly, she wanted him to _speak_ his answer. "Y-yes," he whispered, barely trusting his voice.

"Good boy," she praised, and he felt his cock jump. She sat up and his hands moved to her waist as she began to ride him again, hips moving in a circular motion. Her hands slid up her body, massaging her own breast, thumbs and forefingers twisting and tugging on her own nipples. He was helpless to do anything but watch, to feel her using him, the wet, slick heat of her sliding over him.

He lost track of time, no clue how long she moved, both of them sweating, moaning, panting with pleasure. He couldn't help himself, couldn't stop himself from thrusting slightly into her, but she didn't tell him to stop the small movement of his hips. She began to move faster, and one of her hands left her breast, sliding up his chest. She pressed the fingers into his mouth, "suck them."

Solas eagerly did as she asked, slicking her fingers with spit, and in an instant, they were gone. She shoved her hand between them, and he felt her fingers working her clit quickly. Her moans came louder now, her hips snapping backward and forward with more speed. He could feel the Veil warping around them, heat and ice and lightning ghosting over their skin, tiny sparks of magic fueled by their combined pleasure.

Aravas was breathing raggedly, tension building in her, her hips moving more erratically. She arched backward moaning deeply, the Veil seemed to thin, and when she sat up her eyes snapped open and met his. His consciousness expanded outward, and Solas swore that he could feel her pleasure and his pleasure, swirling in him, throughout him, radiating through his brain and body. He was consumed by it, and by their combined moans - echoing through him and around him. Her eyes were wide as she rode him, the orgasm starting deep inside her.

_I love you, Solas!_

The thought echoed in his head in her voice as Aravas' orgasm overcame her and she screamed. The connection seemed to break, stuttering out, as she spasmed around him. Solas was shaking with the force of holding back. The spasms were still wracking Aravas' body as she panted, "your turn… take me… fuck me… use me."

He released a deep growl and lifted her from him. He nearly threw her to the ground, shoving one knee up into her chest as he claimed her. "Ah!" she cried out at the sudden force of it. She was still spasming around him as her other leg wrapped around his, spreading her wide for him. His thrusts came hard and fast as he nearly withdrew from her fully, slamming back into her so roughly she slid on the grass. He pressed himself against her, placing a hand on her shoulder to keep her from moving.

His own magic pressed against her, cold brushing against her hot skin, then fire, and lightning. She wedged her hand between them, working her overstimulated clit again, as she continued to spasm around him, juices flowing. The connection sparked again, and Solas was aware of both of them and the Veil and their magic moving around them. Flames rose off them, only to be chased by shards of ice; lightning crested around them. They were beyond sounds and words in the physical plane, but their incoherent sounds of pleasure echoed in both of their heads.

Suddenly it was too much, his fingers dug into the dirt, a howl echoed in his head, and he bit into her shoulder as he was ripped apart by his orgasm. Their magic exploded outward, all fire and ice and lightning snuffed out in an instant; the connection between them gone. He spilled into her, shaking and whimpering, his jaw still locked on her shoulder.

Solas wasn't sure how long it took him to come back to himself, and he wasn't exactly positive he hadn't blacked out. Aravas was holding him loosely, her hand moving slowly up and down his back. She'd managed to move her leg and arm that was trapped between them, and he was clinging to her as he laid limply between her legs. An aftershock ripped through him and he shuddered. She mimicked the motion. It was only then that he realized he was still biting her, and he loosened his jaw with some effort. The bruise had already welted up, red and angry, and he groaned. Aravas nodded a bit in agreement. With effort, he further disentangled himself, rolling off of her and collapsing onto the forest floor with a huff.

"I… can honestly say… that… whatever that was… was a first," Aravas said weakly.

"Likewise," Solas panted. He was too exhausted to move or think straight, but not so exhausted to realize that a connection like they had just forged would have alerted every demon and spirit in the Beyond to their physical location. They had weakened the Veil… simply with their explosive lovemaking. That was… something.

He frowned a bit as he contemplated what this meant… and wondered if she'd really thought what he'd thought he'd heard her think. He felt her shift, turning to look at him. "No," she said with a shake of her head. "You do _not_ get to frown after that."

He laughed a bit, and rolled over to his side, watching her closely. He couldn't stop himself from running a hand up and down her stomach. "I'm frowning at the thought of moving," he said, lying easily.

"I vote we nap here," Aravas said. "No one will miss us. We can head back when I can feel my legs again."

Solas laughed, leaning forward to place a kiss on her forehead. "Okay, vhenan, we'll nap here." She smiled over at him as he called her "vhenan" and he had to stop himself from flinching at his own foolishness. He hadn't meant to say it, but he was still raw from what had just happened and reeling from the idea she loved him in return.

Aravas shoved him to his back again, and slid close, curling against him with a yawn. "Son era, vhenan."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Ara lethal'lan, lasan ara'len sul saota. Lasan ara'sal, sule ha'lam'sal'shiral_ \- My clan mate, I give you myself to make one from two. I give you my soul, until the end of life's journey. These marriage vows are straight from FenxShiral's resource. Full marriage vows (w/translation) can be found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3553883/chapters/8051220).  
>  _da'assan_ \- an endearment meaning little arrow.  
>  _son era_ \- sleep well (note: this isn't a smutty translation, but does appear at the end of the smut.)
> 
> ###### Smutty Translations
> 
>  _Sathan, dava ‘ma edhas._ \- Please, lick my pussy.  
>  _Mar rodhe ir’on_ \- You taste delicious.


	10. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. The ending which earned this work the tag "Solas Being Solas". I'd ask for your forgiveness, but... well... if you're here and you ship it, you're likely used to his shenanigans.
> 
> * * *
> 
> As always:  
> Most names came from [FenxShiral's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FenxShiral/pseuds/FenxShiral) fantastic [Project Elvhen: Book of Names](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4401050?view_full_work=true).  
> Other bits of Elvish from either [FenxShiral's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FenxShiral/pseuds/FenxShiral) [Project Elvhen: Expanding the Elvhen Language](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3553883?view_full_work=true) or [Project Elvhen: An Elvhen Lexicon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3719848?view_full_work=true)  
> Lesser known bits of elvish are translated in the endnotes.

Solas watched Aravas as she slept, his mind a whirling storm of conflicting thoughts and emotions. He had not expected _this:_ for him to have fallen in love and her to go plunging willingly in after him. In this world of people who were terrified of the Beyond and all it had to offer, this world full of people who were barely people, he'd found a woman who took the best parts of Wisdom and Compassion and rolled them into one being. She could attack any problem with knowledge; she had a cold, calculating logic he admired, rarely viewing the world as black and white, but accepting the grays and manipulating them subtly. No decision, no move, was made without thoroughly considering all sides, without consulting her mind's knowledge AND her spirit's sense of compassion and equity. And she did so with a sense of stubborn pride that would not let her give up until she succeeded in her goals. She'd do anything to get what she wanted - so long as no one else was harmed.

It should have been easy for her to hate Ghimyean and refuse to be part of his bonding ceremony, but she hadn't, simply because his bride had come to her and told her it would hurt him. It should have been easy for her to demand Ghimyean not marry Eirlana when she realized he wasn't in love, but she hadn't simply because she hadn't thought it fair. It should have been easy for her to give up on learning to control ice when it became clear it was not something which would come easy to her, but she hadn't, simply because she thought it essential to casting wards and being able to ward her Clan could save their lives. It should have been easy for her to walk away when a strange elf with no logical backstory had come stumbling out of the woods in need of help, but she didn't, because she couldn't stand to watch others suffer.

He simply hadn't expected this, to find a companion here, in this world he'd broken, full of tranquil children who seemed to care for nothing beyond themselves, and to be so lucky as to love her and have that love returned. But it wasn't a happy ending, because he still had work to do and what he had to do would cause her distress.

When he tore down the Veil, it was possible that many of the world's inhabitants would die, if not in the act itself, in the resulting chaos and confusion. The Spirits and Demons suddenly pouring into the physical world would terrify most people. There would be attacks. Mages would suddenly find their power amplified and most of the fools would be unable to control it properly. The Evanuris would be after _blood_. War. Famine. Death. Destruction.

He'd be setting the world on fire, again, in an effort to heal it. Aravas wouldn't be able to handle knowing he was responsible for it. She would never support it. She would never support him. The knowledge of it ripped at his soul causing pain so intense he could hardly breathe.

Without realizing it, he'd broken his deal with her the moment he'd met her. _In exchange, you won't hurt me or my Clan_. Unintentional deaths from the Veil coming down, he'd give himself a pass on, but… what about the rest? The pain of her disappointment in him and her feelings of betrayal? And what if… what if… she was one of those unintentional deaths? He would not only be condemning her to death but himself to loneliness; millennia of having known her and lost her. Uthenera would be his only escape. Despair at the thought of it abraded him, making it hard to focus, hard to think. Unbidden tears welled in his eyes.

Solas pressed a kiss to her forehead and sighed heavily. There was really only one option to make this easier for her.

He sat up slowly and took a deep breath, summoning his power to him with practiced ease. His power was still a fraction of what it used to be, but it was enough. Dreamers slept deeply naturally, their souls more entwined with the Beyond than average, but as he pressed a palm to Aravas' forehead, he pushed her deeper into the Beyond; a mere suggestion that she would not wake as he did what he needed to do.

It was delicate work, removing himself from her memories, but leaving intact the knowledge and training she'd acquired from him. He would not take away all that she'd learned - the ability to protect her clan - and leave her nothing of the past three months. He replaced himself with books and nameless and faceless travelers, all of which had passed through her life quickly and made little impression. The delicate work took hours and he only finished as the sun set.

As complex as his act was, it wasn't the most difficult part. He dressed them both and carried her back to the campsite. The celebration of Ghimyean and Eirlana's bonding had finally died down, and most everyone in the Clan was resting peacefully. It was a simple matter to sneak by their notice and to place Aravas in her tent. It was even simpler to cast the spell which ensured any member of the Clan remaining awake would all be asleep within moments. Removing himself from nearly everyone else's memories was simpler than the complex work of removing himself from Aravas', but it took energy and time, a fact he was becoming ever more aware of as the moons rose and passed overhead. As they crested, he finished his casting and took a moment to allow his mana to gather again. It had been a long time since he'd woven spells for hours, and though it felt good to stretch the limits of his abilities, it left him aware of how weak he still was and made him wish he was doing it under other circumstances.

With a heavy sigh, he began to remove the physical signs of his presence - he removed his bedroll from her father's tent and placed it back with the Clan's stores, packed the meager belongings he'd acquired, and skimmed Aravas' tent to make sure she'd kept no tokens to remind her of him. It was then that the full weight of what he'd chosen to do sunk in and Solas collapsed to his knees next to his lover's sleeping form.

He wished he could remove her from his own memories, could forget precisely how deeply he cared for her, but it wouldn't be possible, and he could kill himself trying. In truth, he wasn't sure he had successfully removed himself from her memories. There was the possibility she would remember, even if it all felt like a dream. The tears began to fall as he wished there were any other options for them, and he wiped at them furiously. He leaned forward, pressing one last gentle kiss to her lips. "Ir abelas, vhenan. Juvegaran su ma."

And with that, Solas left Clan Lavellan for Kirkwall and a soft-spoken elf who had managed to get her hands on an Eluvian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Ir abelas, vhenan. Juvegaran su ma._ \- I'm sorry, my heart. I will return for you.


End file.
